Displacements
by Halm Vendrella
Summary: Dr. Drakken and Shego are up to their usual sinister plotting, but might they have actually hatched a scheme that will work? Knowing Drakken, probably not, but it'll still take Team Possible's best effort to keep the world safe!
1. Chapter One: Rigmarole

_Disclaimer_: Kim Possible and all original, registered characters and locations are the sole property of Disney until they tell me otherwise.

                                                                                                                **Chapter One - Rigmarole******

            It was your typical Middleton High School English class. Half the students were dozing off, and the rest were trying to look like they weren't. With the teacher droning on about participles and pronouns, it was hard to blame them.

            _I thought we learned this stuff back in fifth grade_, Kim Possible wondered absently. She was in the latter half of the student population, resting her head in her hand and trying valiantly to appear as though she was paying attention with her eyes half-closed. A glance back over her shoulder showed her best friend, Ron Stoppable, was in the opposite camp, snoozing away on his desk. Even Rufus, his pet naked mole rat, was drooped out of his pocket, snoring like a tiny, hairless pink whistle.

            Kim turned back to the teacher, but it was no use. Mr. Curmudgeon was quite possibly the most despised teacher at MHS, which would be an accomplishment for someone who allowed his students to sleep his classes away undisturbed. Of course, that was the problem. It was brutally hard to pass his tests if you were asleep for all the material.

            So heavy was the drowsy atmosphere that the sound of the door to the classroom opening barely drew any attention. Kim looked over, but she couldn't seem to focus on anything other than how nice it would be to have her pillow with her right about now. Mr. Curmudgeon stopped his monotone drawl, which brought Kim enough into consciousness to catch the words "welcome", "transfer student", and "empty seat". She vaguely registered the apparent newcomer as male before the lecture resumed and sapped the rest of her strength.

            _Hopefully Dr. Drakken never finds out about my English class, or he'll be sure to pick this time to attack the school one of these days_, was the last wandering thought she could remember.

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            "Yo Kim, is that the best class ever or what?" Ron said, stretching as they walked out of Mr. Curmudgeon's room some time later. "After all, sleep is the second best thing on the Listo De Ron."

            "And I could _never_ guess what the first thing is," Kim replied with a sardonic grin, squinting slightly. Walking outside that room made the sunshine through the windows seem five times brighter.

            "That, KP, would be food," Ron informed her loftily. No small surprise; it was lunch time.

            They picked up their usual trays of the reprocessed medley that was the school lunch, which was probably patented for the sake of preventing any other restaurant from serving it. The two friends sat down at their usual table and tucked in, Ron going at what might have been pasta at one point in the process of creation with oblivious gusto. Kim brushed a stray lock of her long auburn hair behind an ear and started at what was probably supposed to be a salad, although it looked suspiciously like what she'd seen in a horse trough when rescuing a crown prince in Saudi Arabia a few weeks back.

            The clatter of another tray brought Kim's eyes up to see a third person take a seat with them. "'Sup Kim, hey Ron," she greeted.

            "Hey Monique," Kim said. "Enjoy the mudgeon's lecture today?"

            "How could I miss it?" the black girl replied dryly. "Oh, I know; perhaps because I was dead to the world."

            "Better bored and asleep than bored and awake," Ron said wisely, waving his fork.

            "Until exam time, you mean," said Kim.

            "No concerns here, KP. I'm assimilating his classes on a subconscious level," the freckled blonde replied. "I simply must recall the latent memories of English class when the time comes, and all will be well."

            "You must have had a latent malfunction last term, then," Monique shot back with a small smile.

            "And I though you tried the osmosis thing back in our freshman year, Ron – and failed, I might add," Kim reminded him.

            "There was a glitch in the memory systems, nothing more," he said airily. "And nothing Rufus and I can't fix this time around."

            "You sure about that?" asked Kim, glancing down at Ron's cargo pocket. "The mudgeon knocks Rufus out so cold that even lunch doesn't wake him up."

            Ron's rodent charge chose that moment to peek out of his khaki abode, blinking sleepily. Rufus loosed a series of squeaks that sounded like "Someone say lunch?" right before hopping up onto the table and helping himself to some of Ron's pseudo-pasta.

            Monique watched with a mix of distaste and amusement, but Kim had just noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

            A student was weaving his way carefully through the tables nearby, holding a lunch tray and looking around anxiously. Kim didn't recognize him, and she prided herself on knowing every face in Middleton. A foggy memory of something from last period told her that this must be a new student, and that meant he was probably looking for someplace to sit. Lunch time was unforgiving to the best of new students at the beginning of every year, and transfers had an especially brutal time. There were rumors involving everything from spitwads to tar pits.

            Kim saw him look sidelong at their table, and his eyes might have flicked to her ever so briefly, but despite the half-empty seats, he moved on deliberately. Even though the new kid was walking through the middle of the crowded Middleton caf, he seemed oddly unnoticed. He even walked right past the vaunted Senior Table with barely a glance in his direction. Kim sipped her drink, her eyes locked on like a Gemini mini-missile. Well, perhaps a bit better than _that_. She saw him zero in on the lone empty table on the other side of the caf. The arrangement sent him in an erratic course across the room, winding through narrow gaps, and brought him right by their table.

            As he approached, Monique and Ron both gave the briefest of looks at the presence walking behind them, but just as quickly went back to eating. That was perhaps the best way to describe the new kid, now that Kim could finally get a good, close look at him. He had the appearance of discretion, a simple average-ness that didn't warrant a second thought, let alone a second look. He probably could have disappeared in a crowd of two.

            A sudden impulse grabbed her as he walked by. "Hey, need a place to sit?"

            He stopped and looked at her; he seemed unsure she had been talking to him. "No, I, ah, wouldn't want to impose…" he said meekly, with an almost wary glance at the empty chairs.

            Ron, looking as though he had just noticed the kid for the first time, nevertheless jumped headfirst into the conversation. "Hey, no worries dude, this is just the Middleton caf, not the Royal Court of Rodeghan."

            The newcomer quirked an eyebrow. "Royal court of where?"

            "Never mind," Kim said quickly. The kid seemed shy enough as it was, and Ron launching into accounts of her world-saving exploits wasn't going to help. "Take a seat," she offered kindly.

            He glanced nervously around the table at each of them, and even shot the briefest of looks back in the direction of the empty table, but seemed to feel he had been backed into a corner. He moved next to Ron, giving Rufus a curious stare as he sat down.

            "This is Rufus," Ron said amiably, launching into introductions without missing a beat. The mole rat gave a friendly wave, which drew out a small smile. "I'm Ron Stoppable, this is Monique, and that's Kim Possible," he said, pointing around the table, "ultimate best friend and teen super-he—" Kim cleared her throat loudly, but Ron missed the hint. He paused for her to stop, then continued, "teen hero— ow!" he yelped, as Kim kicked him under the table.

            The new kid was looking at her and Ron as though perhaps doubting their sanity. She couldn't blame him, and glowered briefly at Ron, who was whimpering and rubbing his shin, before turning back to their newest acquaintance.

            "I'm Lynx," he said in a soft-spoken voice, "Lynx DeWard."

            Something about that rung a bell…

            "So, where you from in the wide world, my man?" Ron was rambling on like a steamroller now, but Lynx seemed to be enjoying it. There was nothing like a friendly face to get you comfortable in a new situation, and friendliness was one thing Ron Stoppable had never been accused of lacking.

            "Up north. Seattle," he replied.

            "Coo," Ron nodded. "You must have wrung your clothes out when you got off the plane," he said, nudging the new kid with an elbow.

            "Huh?" Lynx said, now looking confused.

            "Y'know, all the rain," Ron said, waving his fingers above his head goofily. Rufus produced a cocktail umbrella from somewhere, accentuating the joke.

            "Oh," Lynx replied, with a small, lopsided smile. Kim let out a silent sigh of relief; if _that_ joke didn't scare him away, just maybe a saner resident of Middleton would be able to get a word in edgewise before the poor kid was irreversibly traumatized against his new home.

            "So when did you move in?" Monique jumped in, before Ron could, well, be Ron any more.

            "End of last week," Lynx said, somewhat nervously. Kim's feminine wiles were already abuzz with warning indicators. A glance quicker than the average eye could see shared with Monique showed it wasn't a false alarm, and it said one thing: _girl shy_. "Well, my parents flew down at the beginning of last week with my brother," Lynx moved to take a bite of his lunch, but when he saw what he was about to put in his mouth he seemed to reconsider. "I got here Friday."

            Something about his last statement set off another of Kim's internal warning sensors, one that could sniff out a dodged question from sixty paces. She made a note, but let it slide for now. Who knows, maybe he just had a girlfriend he had to say goodbye to before he came down. Kim frowned mentally. That was an odd thought to draw for consideration on the first shot. She shook it off.

            "So, what brings you down to Middleton?" Kim asked.

            "My parents are both in R&D – my mother in biotech, my father in aeronautics – and they both got job offers from local businesses that were too good to refuse." Lynx barely met her eyes as he spoke, almost taking another bite of his lunch before realizing that it hadn't become any more appetizing in the last minute.

            Kim had other things on her mind now than how shy their new acquaintance was. She snapped her fingers excitedly with sudden remembrance. "My parents both mentioned they were getting new workers this week."

            "Whoa, how about that?" Ron said, as if discovering a certificate for a lifetime supply of nacos. "Your first day here, and you run into the daughter of both your parents' bosses!"

            Lynx didn't seem so excited. In fact, Dr. Drakken had never looked so pale; and _he was blue. He gave an extremely weak laugh._

            "Hey, no big," Monique chimed in quickly to reassure him. "Kim's cool, and so are her folks."

            "Yeah, don't worry, this is so not the drama," Kim waved dismissively.

            Lynx ran a hand nervously through his longish light brown hair. "Yeah, guess I just have a penchant for big coincidences," he chuckled.

            "How's that?" Ron asked.

            Lynx froze for the briefest of instants, as if just realizing what he'd said. "Oh, nothing. Just a… a funny story about something my mom was working on a couple years ago."

            "Awesome, I love hearing good stories!" Ron said excitedly. "As long as they don't involve monkeys. Does it involve monkeys?" he asked, looking around nervously.

           _Tack another look under the confused column_, Kim thought. At least he pulled it off well. A very composed, thoughtful confused… she shook herself mentally. _Reality check. __New kid bears little to no resemblance to Josh Manke, stupid thought patterns can now cease, she chided herself._

            They spent the remainder of lunch talking about nothing in particular – though Ron made a game effort to turn the conversation into a GWA debate when Lynx let slip that he, his father and his brother were all fans. Kim tallied a minor victory when he said how much he enjoyed watching it even though it was fake. (Ron had been almost speechless after that.) By the time their half-hour in the bustling crowd of the Middleton caf was up, the newcomer was ten times as comfortable, but still seemed fairly reserved about anything beyond small talk. Kim chalked it up to being nervous around new friends, but she still made a mental note to have Wade do his thing with the name Lynx DeWard.

                                                                                                                                -- --- --

            "Shego, you _know_ how much I hate taking long trips without proper lumbar support!" a pale, dark haired man was ranting to a dangerous-looking woman in a green and black jumpsuit.

            "Let's review," Shego replied coolly, as she and Dr. Drakken rocked back and forth with the swaying of the aptly-named ship _Big D's Folly_. "Who decided there was only one place we could get electro-dermal plastic, and that one place was Seattle? Who suggested we take a _boat from Tokyo _to_ Seattle? And finally, who picked the ship for us to swipe?" she said, counting off fingers and snapping each question with increasing venom._

            "Well, I did, but—"

            "But nothing!" Shego, who was decidedly greener than usual, barked. "We could have stolen a cruise liner, or even pirated a supertanker, but you just had to have the twenty-foot dinghy that's as likely to capsize as it is to get us across the Pacific Ocean!"

            "Now, Shego, this is a fine vessel, fit for an evil genius of my—"

            "_Did I fail to mention it's the middle of typhoon season!?_" she roared, rising to her feet only to quickly stop and clutch her stomach. She sank back into her seat queasily. The rain beat down relentlessly on the roof of the cabin, and the ship was rocking unsteadily with ten-foot waves, but the little motor was still puttering along determinedly, pushing them with the thirty-knot winds towards the northwestern coast of the U.S.

            Dr. Drakken, an evil genius in only the loosest definitions of the words in Shego's current estimation, seemed to finally be quieted. She grabbed the map and tried to ignore the fact that her stomach was roiling worse than the ocean outside, grumbling nonstop while making sure they were still reasonably on course.

            "I assure you, Shego," Drakken began again meekly, "I have a reason for choosing this method of transportation, and it is of the utmost, vital importance to my newest evil scheme!"

            "You mean you wanted to wear the cap," she corrected blandly.

            "Well, yes," Drakken stammered, snatching the captain's hat off his head and twiddling it nervously, "but… Well, I have _two _reasons for choosing this method of transportation!"

            "I'm breathless with anticipation," Shego replied, her voice dripping with more sarcasm than the ship was dripping rain water.

            There was a long pause. "They're on a need-to-know basis at the moment, and I don't think you need to know."

            Shego's forehead slammed into the desk. "I would throw you overboard, but I think the effort would just make me even more seasick," she grumbled into the map.

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            "I'm telling you, there's _no way that wrestling is fake!" Ron raved at Lynx as they were getting ready to leave for the day. "Just ask Kim, she's fought one of the GWA's superstars herself!"_

            Kim froze midway through her locker combination, and tried to ignore the look of surprise on their new friend's face. She could have slapped herself for letting Ron get this far before she could stop him. Then again, the half-day spent interacting with someone who _didn't know she was a world-famous teen hero had been longer than she'd dared hope for._

            "Really? Did you win a guest appearance at a house show or something?" Lynx asked.

            Kim laughed weakly. "Well, actually…"

            "Actually, Kim went toe-to-toe with Jackie the Jackal right in prahm-tahm baby!" Ron interrupted, pumping a fist. "I helped, too… sort of."

            Lynx blinked.

            "Well, we didn't really _wrestle him…" Kim said lamely, thinking quickly of a way to salvage the situation. No luck there. "And he was kinda possessed by the spirit of Anubis at the time, so…"_

            Lynx snapped his fingers. "So you _are the same Kim Possible. I can't believe I didn't recognize you sooner."_

            "Well, yeah, wouldn't Ron Stoppable being around be a dead giveaway that she was the one-and-only big hero?" Ron asked, as if stating the obvious. "You know, the whole sidekick thing and all."

            "Actually, I'd never heard of you before," Lynx replied offhandedly, still intent on Kim.

            "Bah, still no glory for the sidekick! What's this world coming to, Rufus?" he asked to the mole rat perched on his shoulder. "Robin never had this much trouble getting _his_ fifteen minutes from Batman!"

            "I can't believe I met you both on my first day here," Lynx went on, shaking his head in amazement. "My dad actually tried to tell me he was going to work for the father of _the_ Kim Possible – he saw that GWA show live and told me all about it – but I thought he was joking."

            "Ugh," Kim rolled her eyes, "having a 'the' in front of your name is so not the drama."

            "Oh…" Lynx deflated like a balloon. Kim was mildly surprised: he was the first person she'd met who actually had the grace to realize that celebrity might not be the best thing in the world. She even felt a little guilty for snapping at him. "Er, well… I didn't mean to make a scene about it."

            "No big," Kim said, and Ron nodded in agreement. 

            "Don't worry, KP's used to this sort of thing."

            Kim finally finished putting in her combination and set to pulling out her usual collection of books.

            "Hey, is that a GTX-47?" Lynx asked, craning his neck to get a better look at her in-locker computer.

            "Er, I guess," Kim replied. She'd never really bothered to find out exactly what Wade had installed, come to think of it. Though it had been a rude awakening to get to school one morning to find a computer crammed into your locker.

            Lynx nodded, impressed once more. "Powerful stuff."

            He jerked in surprise when the screen suddenly flared to life. The young black boy on the monitor did his own double-take at the same time. "Who's this?" he asked.

            "Hey Wade," said Kim. "This is Lynx, a new kid here at Middleton. What's the sitch?"

            "Oh, nothing major. Just detected an unfamiliar signature at the school; guess I didn't have far to look."

            Lynx was studying the area around the terminal with clinical efficiency. "Ah, the Albus 9000 infrared scanner," he said, reaching in to tap a small, barely visible blue-gray bump under the monitor. All three visible faces blinked at him. "My dad works with advanced computers as kind of a hobby," he explained. "I guess it's rubbed off."

            "No doubt," Wade said, sounding impressed.

            "Ok, back to a subject fit for those of us who _don't speak Star Trek?" Ron groused._

            "Sorry Ron, the world's a quiet place today," Wade replied, "unless you want to feed Mrs. Gillborn's cats again."

            Ron and Rufus both shuddered. "I can't believe I let you talk me into that the last time. Those things were shedding so badly Rufus was a _haired_ mole rat for a week."

           Wade was taking a sip from one of his omnipresent soda cups when a gold light started blinking above him. He punched a few keys and frowned.

            "Something up, Wade?" Kim asked.

            "Maybe," he replied vaguely. "But it might just be one of the satellites I'm pirating— er, borrowing data from going a little haywire. Unless you think Drakken is the type to suddenly take a pleasure cruise across the Pacific on a twenty-foot dinghy during typhoon season."

            "So not," Kim said dismissively. "The day the super villains stop using fancy jets, blimps, UFO look-alikes or the occasional submarine is the day the tweebs get an award for good behavior."

            "You're probably right," Wade shrugged. "I'll keep an eye out, just in case. Later." The screen blinked off.

            "Drakken," Lynx said thoughtfully. "Where have I heard that name before?"

            "He's KP's numero uno arch nemesis and ultimate world-conquest-aspiring evil genius," Ron supplied.

            Lynx shook his head. "No... Well, I mean, of course you're right about the evil genius arch-nemesis thing," he amended quickly, "but that's not where I've heard his name before." He shrugged it off. "Oh well."

            "Well, I dunno about you two, but I'd say it's high time for some snackage!" Ron proclaimed, swinging his locker shut with a clang and heading for the exit.

            "Dare I ask?" Lynx whispered aside to Kim as they moved to follow. When he leaned over, it was the closest he'd been to one of them all day. She felt somehow flattered.

            "Don't worry; he's harmless when it comes to food. Besides, you haven't lived in Middleton until you've eaten at Bueno Nacho."

*A/N* - Aside from plopping in my original characters, which I'm going to craft like they were being written into the show anyway, I'm going to write this like it's an episode from the series. After all, why change a good thing? I'll leave the romances and Matrix crossovers to those who do them best.

Let's just hope this story doesn't get caught by the curse of all my other writings… I post them on FF.net, get about as many reviews as I get Major League Baseball contract offers (hey Cubbies, southpaw with a 64 mph fastball and something that might pass for a slider on a good day is available!), and quickly lose interest in writing them when it seems that no one has an interest in _reading them. You heard it here first, folks, I'm a wannabe writer desperate for a little confidence boost! (Or is it an ego massage? *shrug*) Drop me a review and you too can help salvage my pathetic soul! ;-)_


	2. Chapter Two: Foreshadow

**                                                                                      Chapter Two – Fore-shadows**

            "Okay, remind me again _why we're stealing these things," Shego said, examining one of the small, clear plastic squares she and Dr. Drakken were packing by the crate load into the getaway vehicle._

            Drakken popped up from between to large containers, struggling to lift a small box of the intended loot. He dropped it in place, panting heavily. "For the last time, Shego, this is the world's largest stash of electro-dermal plastic."

            "Yeah, I got that part before your failed attempt to re-create Gilligan's Island," she said dryly. "I mean what do they _do? And if you say you're going to use them to re-print your 'Early Days of Drakken' slideshow and distribute it to the world…"_

            "No, no, no, of course not. Though that is an excellent idea for next month's evil scheme…" he shook his head. "Anyway, these are an advanced data-transfer material, the next big thing beyond fiber optics. Super-high-tech, next level stuff." Drakken cackled gleefully, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

            "You wouldn't be able to tell from this," Shego said, tossing the flimsy square she'd been holding back into an open crate as she looked around. As high-tech research lab warehouses went, this one wasn't anything to write home about. The security alarms could have been cracked by a ten-year-old, and Drakken's lairs had more surveillance cameras in a single hallway than this whole several thousand square foot building possessed (and Shego wasn't even convinced the cameras had been on; they were scrap metal now, either way). There hadn't even been a lazy security guard to knock out on the way in, which would have done wonders to help Shego relieve her pent-up frustrations.

            "Well, it does take a bit of fun out of the heist," Drakken admitted. "But for once it would be nice for at least a small part of my plan to go off without a hitch."

            By reflex, both Drakken and Shego stopped what they were doing and looked around: scoping all the windows, surveying all the exits, examining the ceiling. The silence stretched on for several seconds.

            "That's odd," Drakken mumbled. "It's not like Kim Possible to miss her cues."

            They stopped and looked around again.

            "She must be slipping," Shego surmised, not unhappily. 

            They shrugged and finished loading the crates, then drove away… without a hitch.

                                                                                                                               -- --- --

            "You have got to be kidding me," Kim said, utterly incredulous.

            "So not," Jim and Tim echoed, holding up identical certificates for her examination.

            Kim scratched her head. "You didn't hack into the school's mainframe to print these off, did you?"

            They made identical faces of hurt disbelief. "How could you possibly accuse us of something so underhanded?" Tim replied.

            "Yeah sis," said Jim. "There are some levels even we won't stoop to. And besides, if we were gonna print ourselves up awards, we wouldn't make them for good behavior."

            "Plus," added Tim, "we only got them for _one day_ of good behavior."

            "That's the only kind you two are capable of getting," Kim said. "But don't quote me on that. Before today I wasn't even sure _this was possible."_

            "Hey sis, anything is possible for us," Tim said confidently.

            "We just have better things to do than be good most of the time," Jim explained.

            "Speaking of which," Tim went on excitedly, "we'd better hurry, or we'll be late," 

            "Late for what?" Kim asked warily.

            "Uh…" the brown-haired twins echoed, sharing a look.

            Kim sidestepped over to block the door in one catlike motion. "With Mom and Dad out helping the DeWards settle in, I'm in charge, so the two of you better spill it before we find out if it's _possible_ for you two to spend an entire night locked up in your rooms."

            The tweebs were a still a step ahead of her, it seemed. "Hey, why aren't _you_ out helping them move in?" Jim asked slyly.

            "Yeah, that new kid Lynx seems to be hanging out with you and Ron an awful lot…" said Tim, putting the last several words in a teasing singsong.

            "Ugh," Kim sighed, looking up to the sky for some divine answer to the question of how to control her two rambunctious younger brothers. None was forthcoming. "Someone had to stay here to make sure that _our house was still standing at the end of the day," she grumbled. "Besides, I'm sure Lynx has seen enough of Ron and me for one week, there's no need for us to hang around __every day."_

            "Why?" Jim asked. "You and Ron hang out all the time."

            "Well, we've been friends since preschool. It's kind of hard for us to reach a point of seeing too much of one another."

            "Where's he now, then?" Tim asked quickly.

            Kim clenched a fist and scowled in frustration. How did they _do_ this, anyway? "He's at Lynx's," she admitted grudgingly.

            "Game." "Set." "Match." Tim and Jim said, alternating words and exchanging a high-five.

            "Only because the last time _Ron tried to watch you two on his own, we didn't find him until the next day!" Kim said, exasperated._

            "Like you can do any better?" Jim asked, his tone an open challenge.

            "You want me to break out Drakken's old mind-control chips?" Kim threatened.

            The tweebs recoiled and gulped in unison. "No fair!" "No mind control!" they staccatoed.

            "Don't think I won't," Kim said, leaning down and grinning sinisterly. No way was she going to let the twins get the initiative back now. "Out with it. What've you two got up your sleeves?"

            "Awww," they whimpered. "It's nothing _too_ dangerous…" Tim admitted reluctantly.

            "For you, that only means a slightly smaller amount of high explosives," Kim said, not fooled in the least.

            "We were just gonna try and launch one of Mrs. Gillborn's cats with our new rocket," Jim said innocently, kicking at the tile kitchen floor.

            "She's got plenty, would she miss just one?" Tim added.

            "Gah, you two aren't going to recreate Sputnik II on my watch," Kim said sternly. "Now, I want both of you to—" She was interrupted by the sudden beeping of the Kimmunicator. As she pulled it out, the tweebs leapt at their opportunity, scampering past her before she could react. Sighing in frustration, she punched the connection open.

            "Make it quick Wade," Kim said briskly. "I've gotta catch the tweebs before they manage to send a cat into orbit."

            Wade blinked once, but it was hard to be too surprised about anything involving those two tiny terrors. He jumped right in to his latest lowdown. "First off, I've got some bad news about Drakken."

            "As in bad for him, or bad for us?" Kim asked.

            "Us, of course. Turns out that dinghy in the north Pacific _was_ him, believe it or not."

            "I don't believe it," Kim said, slapping her forehead. "And here I thought Jim and Tim getting a certificate for good behavior was just some freaky coincidence."

            "It could be worse; at least that's the way it looks at first glance. Drakken and Shego hit a recently closed warehouse in Seattle last night. The place was boarded up with the security cams deactivated, and most of the contents had already been shipped off, but according to the invoice I was able to find, there was still one thing left inside: electro-dermal plastic. It's a new invention, but hardly up to Drakken's level of top-secret gadgetry."

            "Why do I sense a 'but' right about now?" Kim asked.

            Wade chuckled. "We might want to get you tested for ESP, Kim. You're dead on once again. The plastic wouldn't normally raise any red flags, except the invoice listed a shipping destination." He paused.

            "No time for guessing games, Wade," Kim said anxiously. "Jim and Tim could be strapping Mr. Fluffles the Fourth to a backyard-built three stage rocket as we speak."

            "The destination was right here in Middleton," he explained quickly. "But it gets even better."

            Kim leaned out the kitchen window fretfully. Her jaw dropped as she saw her younger brothers wrestling a mangy grey tabby cat through the hatch of their latest experiment.

            "Remember asking me to run down some info on the new kid at Middleton High, Lynx DeWard?" Wade called loudly, trying to get Kim's attention back. She had jumped straight out of the window and was running across the lawn towards the launch pad. "Turns out the plastic was the newest invention of his mother, Dr. Rita DeWard, and it was being shipped here to her new lab at the hospital," he shouted urgently.

            "Sorry Wade, they're already at T-minus ten," Kim said quickly, barely noticing a word he had said over the growing thrum of rocket engines.

            "But wait, you need to—" Wade's voice disappeared along with his picture as the Kimmunicator blinked off.

            "Launch is aborted, tweebs!" Kim said triumphantly, slapping the big, red cancel button on their control panel.

            "Awww," they moaned as the whine of jet engines faded away. "We were so close that time."

                                                                                                                                -- --- --

            "This is the _last_ time I let you make travel arrangements," Shego grumbled.

            "Eh?" Dr. Drakken asked, looking over at his partner in evil. "What's wrong with traveling at the pinnacle of both comfort and style?"

            "Comfort, yes. Style? Only if we were _retired_ evildoers!" Shego retorted from the navigator's seat of the Winnebago.

            "Oh, now you're just being picky," Drakken grumbled peevishly. "It was this or the U-Haul," he reminded her.

            The black haired vixen buried her face in a hand. "I can't believe you've put this scheme on a budget."

            "Face it, Shego, after as many failures as we've suffered thanks to that infernal Kim Possible, there's only so much of my evil fortune we can afford to risk with each plan these days. Losing Drak Force One last Christmas made a bigger dent than even the holiday spirit can overlook."

            "You weren't saying that when you ordered the heated seat cushions," Shego mumbled under her breath.

            "What was that?" Drakken asked.

            "I said your priorities seem a little off!" she snapped. Wrenching open the glove compartment, she snatched a sheet of paper and skimmed over it. "I mean look at this!" she turned and shook the paper at him. Drakken's head bobbed awkwardly as he tried to read the note while she was waving it. Shego sighed and threw it down in his lap.

            "The budget," Drakken replied after skimming the sheet. "Is there a problem with wanting to be organized at the cost of a little paperwork?"

            "Ugh. I mean the distribution of expenses. You've slashed our average travel budget in half, hacked the henchman allowance to next to nothing, and I can't even bear to mention what you've done to lair construction and evil gadget procurement!"

            "Well _some_ of us were using gadget procurement for some rather excessive manicures!" said Drakken.

            She cocked a foreboding eyebrow at him.

            "Well, okay, so both of us were, but—"

            He stopped short as Shego brandished her plasma gauntlets at him, shoving the razor-sharpened nails right under his nose. "What on earth would you call _these if not evil gadgets? Need I remind you these claws are the only thing keeping Kim Possible busy while you let her sidekick what's-his-name stumble around messing up the plans?"_

            "Well if you could keep them both busy," Drakken replied irritably, "just maybe we would succeed one of these days!"

            "Oh, no. You're not turning this into another debate on the merits of cloning me," Shego said quickly, shaking a finger at him. "We've been down this road before."

            Drakken opened his mouth to reply, but stopped and stared at a road sign as they passed it. "Yes, Shego, indeed we have been down this road before," he admitted.

           "I'm glad you're finally listening to reason," she said smugly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. Suddenly, she found herself enjoying how nice and comfortable the heated cushions were despite herself.

            "No, I mean we've really been down this road before," Drakken repeatedly sourly. "We just missed our exit."

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            "Thanks for your help moving us in, Ron," Lynx said. "And don't worry about that vase… my Mom will get over it, and my Dad never liked it anyway."

            "A pleasure, my man," Ron replied. "Though I was a bit more worried about the chair than the vase…"

            "Nothing a little superglue and an engineering doctorate can't fix," Lynx said, waving the concern away. "Though my Dad was a bit doubtful about salvaging the dresser…" he admitted, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

            Kim listened with growing bemusement. "Ron, was there anything you carried in that you _didn't_ break?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

            Ron opened his mouth to reply, but stopped to think. It was a long moment before he finally thought of anything. "Yes, actually. Rheim's GWA Ultimate Battle Arena Action Set made it inside unscathed," he reported proudly, referring to Lynx's ten-year-old little brother and one of his toys.

            "Please raise a hand if you're surprised," Lynx quipped, smiling to take any sting out of the words. He turned and tossed his empty soda can into a trash bin from a good fifteen feet.

            "Nice shot," Ron said. He bit his lower lip in concentration as he tossed up his own can. It was sailing long, but Rufus had been waiting on the back rim, and jumped up to complete an alley-oop. A small problem developed at this point: Ron's can was still half full, and the momentum of the shot knocked Rufus back like a pink cotton ball. Ron winced as the can landed with a dull clack, the mole rat still holding on for dear life. Rufus stood up, shook his head, and gave a sigh of relief, no worse for the wear.

            "You play b-ball?" Ron asked Lynx as they lined up at the doorway, after retrieving both his errant shot and his slightly dazed pet.

            "One of them," Lynx said, nodding. "Baseball. Never have liked basketball much. No offense to the courtside entertainment, of course," he said, giving Kim a lopsided smile.

            "None taken," she replied.

            "Too bad," Ron said. "My sources tell me our losing streak to the Littleton Lemurs is bound to continue without a little touch from outside the arc."

            "Sources?" Lynx asked.

            "Two guys I talked to in the hallway. Well, actually I didn't talk to them, per se…"

            "You mean you overheard them?" Kim offered.

            "I would have said eavesdropped, but I like your word better."

            The bell rang and they headed out into the hallway. They were pulling out the books for their next classes when the monitor inside Kim's locker flashed to life. "What's the sitch, Wade?" Kim asked immediately, her voice tinged with eagerness. It had been a quiet world for the last two weeks, and she was itching to go on a mission. After two years, life started to get a little boring when she wasn't saving the world on a regular basis.

            "I've got a red light in central Arizona. Patching in the security feed now." Wade's fingers buzzed over his keyboard and, after a brief flash of static, the monitor view shifted to show the inside of what at first glance looked like a sporting goods store. Three people in casual uniforms, long khaki pants and dark green polo shirts with tiny logos on the pockets, were huddled behind a counter lined with cash registers. One of them peeked over the top of the counter, then just as quickly bent back down. A tiny object flashed across the screen, and the camera shook as an obvious explosion flashed from off screen. The uniformed trio, apparently employees, flinched and ducked further behind the counter.

            "Exploding… golf balls?" Lynx said quizzically.

            "Accessing the camera controls," Wade's voice reported. The image promptly panned to the right, and in the back of the store, a burly, red-haired man festooned in a gaudy kilt was hacking away at a pile of, indeed, golf balls. His next shot flew straight at the camera, and the image disappeared in a burst of static.

            "It looks like Duff Killigan is up to no good," Wade said, frowning as he reappeared on the monitor.

            "The world's most dangerous rogue golfer," Kim said gravely. "It's worse than it sounds," she told Lynx, who had raised a questioning eyebrow at the not-so-awe-inspiring villainous title.

            "He once again has innocent people in his nine-iron grip! Looks like our tee time is up, KP," Ron said, slapping a determined fist into a palm.

            "Uh, Ron, go easy on the golf references," said Kim. "I'm sure we'll get more than our fill once we get there." She turned back to the monitor.

            "Wade, any connection between Killigan and Drakken, or is this just more grass-roots scheming by our friend with the puff-ball on his head?" she asked.

            "Looks like a solo job from what I can tell," he replied. "But I'll be sure to let you know if I find anything more out en route."

            "Still playing in onesomes," Ron said, nodding confidently at nothing in particular.

            "Ron, I don't think that's a word, even in golf," Kim said wearily. She was starting to sound a little exasperated, and even Rufus was rolling his eyes.

            "I've got the coordinates. Downloading them to the Kimmunicator," Wade put in. "It looks like he's holding up a pro shop in Scottsdale."

            "Get on the horn to Albert Ross," Kim instructed. "I'm sure he'll give us a ride after we saved his air show from that sandstorm last May."

            "I'm on it," Wade said, and his image promptly blinked off.

            "Let's get a move on, Ron," Kim said.

            "Right-o, KP," he acknowledged.

            "You two need a hand?" Lynx asked. Kim and Ron both froze mid-stride, both because of the unexpected question and the fact that they had totally forgotten about Lynx. It wasn't usual to have anyone else hanging around when a call for a mission came in, or at least anyone who needed an explanation. Running out on Bonnie Rockwaller was hardly a recipe for second thoughts.

            "Er, well," Kim stammered.

            "Sorry bud, this stuff is best left to us professionals," Ron said, somewhat coolly.

            "I'll try to ignore the irony of hearing that from anyone not in, like, a SWAT team," Lynx said, but he shrugged and smiled good-naturedly. "But you're right. Don't have any world-saves to put on my resume yet." He waved them on. "I'll grab some notes from history class for you both. Good luck."

            "Thanks Lynx." Kim gave him a grateful smile before jogging for the exit. Ron nodded stiffly and followed her.

            When they were out of sight around the corner, Lynx's smile disappeared. He pulled out a cell phone and started dialing. Unnoticed behind him, Wade's picture blinked back to life from Kim's unclosed locker. The ten-year-old super genius watched the enigmatic newcomer quietly, his face both unsurprised and concerned.

*A/N* - Huge, massive, enormous, gargantuan, colossal, insert adjective here, **THANK YOUs to _all_ those who reviewed! There's nothing like a few kind words to restore a writer's flagging confidence. So here's a big-time shout-out to superviolist, Meow, jennifer, Mistress of Balmoral, Bratty, WackyD and Yamal.**

The only thing better than a review is a review with constructive criticism, I say. So another huge batch of kudos (figurative, not candy-coated) to superviolist, Meow, jennifer, Bratty, and WackyD. Even just saying a few words about what you think I'm doing right is a huge help to making sure this fic – and everything I write, for that matter – is worth reading.


	3. Chapter Three: Hazard Saves

**                                                                                      Chapter Three - Hazard Saves**

            The wind howled past Kim's head and tugged at the long trail of her hair. She felt the secure tightness of the harness around her shoulders, and surveyed the ground below through her goggles. There wasn't much to see when you were flying over a desert, however, aside from a few lonely rays of highway running like veins of silver across the sandy canvas below.

            "Thanks for the lift, Mr. Ross!" she yelled from her perch on the lower right wing of the biplane, struggling to be heard over the wind and the buzz of the propeller.

            Albert Ross was a plump, red-cheeked man with a curled white mustache. He smiled down at her, the ends of his canary yellow scarf flapping in the wind behind him. "It's the least I could do!" he called back. "Don't know where I'd be now if you hadn't saved my air show!"

            "It was no big," she replied, as modestly as possible while shouting at the top of her lungs. "Anyone could have guided those stunt planes to a landing in blinded conditions; all I really did was rig those flares. It was a shame one of them caught the spare hangar on fire, though."

            On the left side of the plane, Ron gave a nervous laugh and huddled more closely to his wing.

            "Looks like we're coming up on your stop!" Ross yelled.

            It wasn't difficult to see their destination: A golf course popping out of the middle of the desert was awfully hard to miss. It was more or less the only green grass in sight, and stood out brightly against the backdrop of tans and mottled browns.

            "Hold on!" Ross instructed. "Here we go!"

            The biplane wheeled over into a dive, the whine of the propeller blade increasing from a steady thrum into a rising growl as they careened downwards. Kim didn't even bother trying to be heard over the noise, simply tossing their pilot a quick salute of thanks. He nodded, and she pulled the release for her harness. Spreading her arms, she felt the rush of vertigo as air and gravity took her. She slid back from the wing, slowing her freefall just enough to let the plane outdistance her. A glance to her left showed Ron had managed the same, flapping his arms wildly and screaming in a rush of excited terror. Ross pulled out of his dive with a rising corkscrew that couldn't help but bring a smile to Kim's face.

            She and Ron pulled their ripcords and parachuted lazily down, landing perfectly, right in the parking lot of the pro shop. A fleet of police cars was sitting around the relatively tiny building, their lights flashing like landing beacons. It was unusual to see them there, but then again, this mission wasn't at some evil lair in the middle of nowhere, either.

            "Boo-yah!" Ron said as he yanked off his helmet, his blonde hair even messier than usual. Rufus, who had been hiding securely in his pocket, jumped back up to Ron's shoulder, looking like he had enjoyed the ride, as well.

            Kim pulled off her own helmet and shook out her long hair. "All right, let's see what we've got," she said.

            "No worries, KP," Ron assured her. "This mission'll be a chip shot!"

            She stopped and leveled a glare at him.

            "What?"

            She was saved from having to remind Ron once again to go easy on the golf jokes by the approach of a tall, burly man in black body armor. His Kevlar vest displayed the letters "SWAT" in bold yellow.

            "Kim Possible," he said without preamble, tossing her a salute. "We're glad you're here."

            "Hold on a second," Ron said, stepping forward. "You guys are the SWAT team, what do you need us for?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

            "This case requires special considerations," the lieutenant, as Kim judged him by the rank insignia on his lapel, said.

            "But you guys are professionals," Ron said, biting at the last word like it was a moldy taco. The lieutenant cocked his head to one side. Obviously he didn't understand the reason for Ron's tone, and neither did Kim, for that matter. Even though she had a suspicion that it had something to do with what Lynx had said as they left for the mission, she didn't know why Ron would take his words so scathingly. She gave Rufus a questioning look, but the mole rat seemed just as baffled as she was.

            "We're dealing with a man in a kilt using exploding golf balls," the policeman replied briskly. "In this kind of situation, your training is just as good as ours."

            "But," Kim said, puzzled, "we don't _have any training."_

            "Exactly," the lieutenant replied simply. He shrugged and saluted in what seemed like one motion, turned on his heel, and walked away.

            Kim and Ron shared a look and a shrug of their own. It was technically true, at least. Training? No. Hands on experience? Plenty. She pulled out the Kimmunicator. "Talk to me, Wade."

            The young genius wheeled in from the side of the screen. "Oh, hey Kim. I wasn't expecting you to call so soon," he said.

            Kim frowned. "Why's that?"

            "You're just early, that's all," he said, waving the subject away and moving on to business. "I've got a layout of the pro shop downloaded," he reported, and his image was replaced with an overlay of the building. It was small, one room, one story, and straightforward. "Now, you've got a skylight on the east side—"

            "No," Kim interrupted. "No skylights, no rappelling from the ceiling. It's one room! I can't see any reason not to just use the front door for once."

            "Good point. But you'll need to keep an eye out; Killigan might have a few surprises in store. Are you sure you don't want to wait around while I do some more analysis?" he asked.

            If Kim didn't know better, she would have thought he was stalling her. "No Wade, I think we're good to go."

            "Whatever you say, Kim. Good luck," the boy said, and his image promptly flashed off.

            "Direct approach. I like it. Ready when you are, KP," Ron said. Rufus nodded as well.

            "Right," she replied, putting the Kimmunicator back in her pocket. The two of them walked up to the front door, placing their backs to the wall on each side of the main entrance. Kim glanced around the corner, looking through the paned glass of the doors. She could see the counter and a bit behind it, enough to know the employees were still sheltered behind the cash registers. The area around them looked like a war zone, pocked with burns and craters. Checking the other side, she saw the one and only Duff Killigan, grabbing clubs from the racks and using each one to launch another explosive shot at his captives. Kim rolled her eyes. Why couldn't he test his shopping list on a driving range like a normal person?

            "On three, you head in first," Kim instructed Ron. "There's a display to the right, so you can distract him and then take cover while I get the hostages out."

            "The distraction again," Ron huffed. "Can't I do something like loop around the side entrance and take him from behind this time?" he asked hopefully.

            "It's too risky, Ron. We've got to get those workers out of there before we try and take down Killigan."

            "Oh, and running around while a maniac in a kilt pelts me with explosives _isn't_ risky?"

            "Not for you," she said with a reassuring smile. "It's a lucky sidekick thing."

            He seemed satisfied with that, and readied himself to run in. "On three," he repeated.

            "Three—" Kim began, but as soon as she said it, Ron burst through the door. "Ron—!"

            He froze just inside, turned to her and said "You didn't tell me you were counting _down!" A surprised shout in a heavy Scottish accent then preceded a hail of destructive golf balls, sending Ron scrambling for cover with a yelp._

            Kim ducked in quickly and darted to the counter, leaning over and ushering the hostages out. She could hear the explosions of flying golf balls as the workers scampered gratefully out the doorway. The door closed behind the last of them just as she heard her sidekick's plea of "Kim! Help!" from the other side of the shop. He was pinned down behind a rapidly disappearing display case, while Killigan sent shot after booming shot, cackling madly all the while.

            Thinking quickly, she took a knee, drew out her grappling gun and fired straight and true. The hook latched onto Killigan's club with a faint clink, and the cable retracted with a whir, drawing the club back to her. She caught it easily, stood up, and smiled smugly at her foe.

            "Are yeh daft, missy? I've go' plenty more where tha' came from!" he shouted, and indeed, he barely had to take a step to grab a new iron from the wall nearby. However, it had at least given Ron time to leave his wrecked hiding place.

            "This is a new style for you, Killigan," Kim said. "Whatever happened to turning the world into your own private course?"

            "What's the point o' havin' me own course if I dinna have the best clubs?" he asked, as if it were the most obvious and logical thing in the world. He tossed aside the iron he'd grabbed from the wall and reached down to pick up his personal bag. Reaching in, he drew out a long, jet-black driver with a golden stripe across the top of the club head. "Bumblebee Long Smasher Oh-Oh-Too!" he called gleefully. "Th' only one of it's kind on th' market!"

            "Oh, great, so now he can lob explosives at us from 350 yards instead of just 300," Ron grumbled from behind her.

            "No' quite, laddie. Even with this baby I'm afraid me drive only breaks 330 with a good wind at me back," he said regretfully. "But it's good enough t' get rid o' the two of you!" he shouted, back to his maniacally giddy self.

            Kim and Ron ran at him, but Killigan quickly wound up and sent a tee shot straight at them. They both dove to the side, Kim distinctly hearing the whistle as the ball raced past her head to explode on the back wall.

            "Oh, my bad," Killigan said. "Fore!"

            Kim and Ron danced about, trying to get closer, but the restricting confines of the tiny shop seemed even smaller when there were exploding golf balls buzzing through the air like flies.

            "Don't want t' miss my tee time! I'm off!" Duff shouted after forcing both Kim and Ron behind the cash registers. He ran out the back door.

            "Quick, let's go!" she said, already off in hot pursuit.

            "Right behind ya, KP!" Ron replied, though he stopped just long enough to grab a pretzel from the miraculously intact hot snack holder.

            Killigan was running out onto the course itself, which was a mix of manicured fairways and greens broken up by sections of untouched desert sand. "Isn't it a bit redundant to have sand traps on a course in the desert?" Kim asked to no one in particular as she gave chase.

            She rounded one of the few trees on the course, only to skid to a halt and dive for cover when she saw Killigan had deployed his arsenal in a fairway in front of her. She landed in a bunker with a sharp, deep slope on the front side that shielded her from the direct attacks. Ron jumped in next to her with a thud. "Gah! Now I'm gonna get sand everywhere!" he moaned. Rufus leapt off his shoulder and crept up the slope, peeking over the back edge.

            "Hey lassie, I may have just picked up the big boomer, but my short game's still just as deadly!" Killigan called. There was the distinctive whoosh and thwap of his next swing, and Kim looked up. Her eyes widened as she saw the tiny white pinprick of a golf ball dropping straight towards them from a high trajectory.

            "Run, Ron! Hurry!" she said urgently. She tried to scramble out of the bunker, but the fine grained sand provided no traction, and Kim watched the golf ball drop towards them all too rapidly. She cringed and tried to shield herself as best she could, waiting for the imminent "bang" of an explosion right beside her.

            All she heard was a soft "plop".

            After a few seconds, she risked opening her eyes. Ron, who had also noticed that they were still very much intact, looked as well. "A dud?" he asked apprehensively, examining the tiny white sphere sitting squarely between them in the sand.

            "I'm not going to wait any longer to find out," Kim said. "Come on."

            They were just moving to climb out of the bunker when the ball finally exploded.

            It wasn't a blast of light and noise, though; instead it was a wet squelching sound as the ball erupted into a huge shower of wet, slimy muck. Kim examined the gelatinous ordnance with disgust. "Ugh, since when did the villains start trying to beat us by grossing us out?"

            "Uh, Kim, I think the gross-out factor is the least of our problems," Ron said urgently, examining the slime covering the sand around him.

            Kim looked at him oddly, but in a rush of sensation realized what he was talking about. With a gasp of surprise, she found that the gel had spread like spilled water, then sunk into the sand, and she watched with horror as her feet submerged into the suddenly jelly-like sand trap. Thanks to her quick reflexes and cheerleading-trained balance, she was able to wrench herself into a standing position before her hands were too deeply stuck, but Ron wasn't so lucky. His ankles and wrists had already disappeared under the surface, and try as he might, he couldn't remove them.

            Thinking quickly, Kim grabbed the grappling gun from her belt, and with a quick shot latched the end onto a thick branch of the tree above them. The retracting motor whirred and struggled mightily, but she could feel her legs rising from the muck. She had just reached down to try and help pull Ron out along with her when a loud bang from above immediately preceded a total loss of resistance from the grappling gun. Looking up, she saw the tree above her was missing the branch she had latched on to, and what was worse, the head of the grappling hook had been cleanly severed from the cord and was lying uselessly out of reach. The last of the frayed end wound back into her gun as she watched in shock.

            "This is so not good," said Ron.

            "Quick, Ron, your grappling gun!" Kim said urgently.

            It was no use: by now, his waist had sunk into the sand, and there wasn't any chance of Ron reaching his own grappler.

            "Ack! This is bad, KP! I don't even like golf courses!" Ron said wildly. "Well, unless they're mini-golf, but those don't have sand traps!"

            "Stay cool, Ron, there's gotta be a way out of this," Kim said, looking around and thinking desperately. She had sunk up to her knees now.

            "Sorry t' jet so soon, lass, but I think I'm gonna play through," Duff Killigan said as he walked up to the high edge of the bunker and looked down at their predicament with an evil grin.

            "Hey, no fair! Can't you give us a mulligan or something?" Ron asked.

            "No freebies on the pro tour, laddie," Killigan replied.

            Ron, whose elbows were now submerged and only the very tops of his knees were showing, glared back defiantly.

            "Well, daylight's a-wastin', and I got a new baby t' try out." Killigan cackled one last time before sauntering away.

            As soon as he was out of sight, Kim reached quickly for her hip pocket, which thankfully hadn't been consumed by the sand yet. She brought out the Kimmunicator and urgently beeped for Wade.

            "What's up, Kim? Is—"

            "Wade, we need some help, fast," she interrupted.

            "What's wrong?"

            "Look!" she said, turning the handheld over to show Wade their predicament.

            "Uh oh," the boy replied when she brought his picture back around. "I'll need you to get a sample of that stuff," he said. With an effort, Kim managed to reach down and grab a small clump of the muck without getting her hand stuck in the process. She dropped it onto the sample tray as it popped out of the Kimmunicator. It clicked shut again, and Wade worked furiously at his keyboard, biting his tongue anxiously.

            "I was afraid of this. The sand has been mixed with some form of coagulant that's turned it into, well, a sloppy mess," he informed them unnecessarily. "It's an extra thick and sticky form of quicksand, really."

            "Less talk, more fix!" Ron urged. The sand was all the way up to his chest now.

            "I'm fixing, I'm fixing!" Wade said. A red light began flashing above his head, and he stopped. "Uh oh."

            "Uh oh? No uh oh, enough with the uh ohs!" Ron wailed.

            Sparks began flying from the top of the Kimmunicator. Wade looked up, and grabbed the side of his head in despair. "No- -ood! I –as afraid of –is happ-ing," he said, the picture and sound becoming garbled. "The san- is shor- out th- -ternal –ystems!" Small wisps of smoke began rising from around the sample tray. Kim grabbed the Kimmunicator with both hands and looked at Wade desperately. "-orry" was the last sound she heard before the instrument gave out.

             "Wade? Wade?! _Wade?!" she shouted, shaking the dead piece of equipment._

            "Oh, boy," Ron said as the sand reached the bottom of his neck.

            Kim dropped the useless box of plastic and spare parts in despair, looking around and checking every pocket she could still reach for something that might help them, which didn't take long. She had now sunk up to her waist. Kim hung her head and shook it hopelessly. "Uh, Ron… If you've got any lucky sidekick ideas, now's the time," she said weakly, looking down at her best friend, who had disappeared up to the chin.

            He looked up at her sadly, then his gaze shifted over her shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise. Kim twisted around, trying to shield her eyes from the sun, which was shining straight down into her face.

            "Need a hand?" someone asked. As he leaned over the edge of the bunker and held out his hand to her, his body blocked the sun. Kim just stared in shock for several seconds. It was Lynx! He was decked out in mission clothes exactly like she and Ron's: Black shirt, gray gloves, black boots, and cargo pants, though he'd added another shade to the spectrum, as his were a light khaki.

            "Uh, I hate to be rude, but its stare or sink," Lynx said. He might have been blushing slightly, or it might just have been the glare, but Kim was too shocked to register it either way. She grabbed his arm, and with a surprising heave, he managed to yank her out of the thick muck. As soon as she was free, both of them darted quickly to the other side, where Ron had now sunk up to the nose and was looking up at them pleadingly.

            Lynx plunged his arm down into the goop, and it was a long second before he finally found something to grab on to. He struggled, pulling at Ron for all he was worth, and managed to at least get Ron's whole head back into free air. The blonde gasped and spit out a mouthful of thick sand as Kim reached down to join in and help drag him to safety. As soon as an arm was free and in reach of the edge, even Rufus pitched in. Together, they had managed to get Ron free to his waist when a voice shouted angrily from behind them.

            "Oh no yeh don't, yeh ruddy blighters!" Duff Killigan bellowed, charging towards them and brandishing his shiny new driver like a bludgeon. He stopped short and dropped several of his golf balls to the ground. Without wasting a second he had reared back for a swing. Kim backflipped over the bunker, and Lynx dove aside and rolled with surprising agility, as Killigan's shot exploded where they had been standing a split-second earlier.

            "Hey! Watch where you're shooting those things!" Ron yelled, shaking clods of dirt from his hair. With his arms freed, he was clutching the bank to keep himself from sinking back down into the sand again, but he couldn't get enough purchase to pull himself out.

            "Hittin' yeh is the idea!" Killigan raved, lancing another drive that sailed long over their heads. It exploded behind them with a sharp crack.

            "You'll have to do better than that, Killigan!" Kim shouted. She was getting ready to charge the rogue golfer when she noticed the shade and shadows around her shifting, and a loud creaking groan behind her.

            "Look out, Kim!" Lynx shouted. He sprinted over and dove, spearing in, grabbing Kim, and tumbling with her out of the way just as the tree crashed down where she had been standing. They rolled, Lynx cradling her head. When they came to a stop, both of them were shaking stars out of their eyes.

            "Things just keep getting better and better!" Ron yelled irritably. His voice was coming from somewhere under the piled branches and leaves of the felled tree. It had landed right on top of the bunker.

            "Oh, come on!" Killigan crowed in disbelief. "Yeh're ruinin' me reputation fer accuracy!" he complained.

            Kim was already back on her feet, albeit shakily, but Lynx, who had taken the brunt of the roll, was still down on one knee trying to clear his dazed vision. Kim ran roundabout towards Killigan, partly to draw his fire away from Ron and Lynx, and partly because she stumbled the first few steps. Golf balls rained down behind her as she ran, the explosions barely more than a step behind. Killigan's shots started growing panicked and wild as she closed in, landing all around her.

            He gave a startled cry as she lunged in, kicking away his club and leaving him unarmed save for the pile of explosive putt-putt fodder at his feet. "Me new driver!" he whimpered, a hand outstretched towards the sleek black club, which had landed a good twenty feet out of reach. He seemed to consider running after it for a moment, but thought better of it. He turned on Kim, brought out a red-striped ball from inside his vest, and held it high above his head. She backed off, eyeing him warily.

            "This isn'a the last yeh'll see o' me, Kim Possible," he said, before throwing the ball down at his feet. It exploded in a thick cloud of smoke.

            "I hate it when they do that," Kim said, coughing and trying to wave the fumes away. She walked back to the bunker, which could barely be seen through the thick leaves of the tree on top of it. Lynx had already helped Ron the rest of the way out of the sand trap, and both of them were standing just outside the reach of the branches. Lynx was covered in dust and grass stains from his tumble, while Ron was looking like he'd just spent a day at the beach being buried alive. Repeatedly. He was also glaring daggers at Lynx out of the corner of his eye.

            "Well, that was interesting," Kim said weakly.

            Ron rounded on Lynx. "What do you think _you're doing here?" he growled._

            The other teen looked surprised. He took a step backward and put his hands up defensively. "Hey, all due respect to the two of you, but when Wade told me about Killigan's new Quicksand Bombs, I figured you might need a little help. Just to be safe."

            "Hold on a sec," Kim said, before Ron could reply. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he had to say at the moment anyway: He looked ready to throttle Lynx for some reason. "You talked to Wade?"

            "He called back at your locker right before you left, and said he'd forgotten to mention some new toys Killigan had cooked up," Lynx explained. "He said he'd just tell you when you beeped in on arrival, but I also, ah, convinced him to give the coordinates to me so I could head out to give you a hand once school was out. I've got your history notes with me," he added with a cautious smile.

            Kim's brow furrowed. "How did you get here so fast if you didn't leave until school was out?" she asked.

            "Do you think your dad is the only scientist with a hypersonic aircraft lying around?" he said, smirking.

            "Oh."

            "I was already calling my Dad when Wade beeped in. I wanted to see if he could pull some strings and bring in the cavalry to check things out before you got here," he admitted, which explained the atypical presence of the police cars when they had arrived. "So I just changed plans and hitched a ride. My Dad had been dying to take the jet for a spin anyway."

            Kim could only blink several times in mild shock. Lynx had arrived in the nick of time, that was for sure, but it was all a little much to take in. Ron, however, apparently still had plenty to say.

            "Just who do you think you are?" the blonde boy snapped, marching towards Lynx and poking a finger in his chest. "KP and I have been doing missions for a long time now, there's nothing the two of us can't handle. Even if you hadn't shown up with your SWAT teams and hyper-whatsis jets, Kim woulda thought of something to save us! Right, KP?"

            "Uh, Ron," she began nervously. She was a little taken aback by his anger, but she thought she was finally beginning to understand where it was coming from. "I'm afraid I was fresh out of ideas back there… If Lynx hadn't shown up—"

           "But… but," Ron stammered. "Then _I would have thought of something!" he said, his voice almost pleading. He turned back to Lynx. "After all, being the lucky sidekick and nearly bungling timely rescues is _my_ job!" he said vehemently._

            "Ah, I tend to try and avoid the bungling," Lynx said uncertainly.

            "Good. Just so we're clear," Ron said, crossing his arms and turning his back. His brow furrowed momentarily, but he apparently decided he'd gotten his point across well enough. He certainly had just been loud and clear to Kim.

            Lynx just looked at him for a moment with a raised eyebrow. Suddenly he took in a sharp breath, then let it out in a long sigh and seemed to wilt right where he stood. "Hey Ron… I know saving the world is you and Kim's thing. I just… wanted to make sure the two of you were all right," he said softly, looking sadly at Ron's stoically turned back. His gaze flickered to Kim as well. "I guess I just got a little... well… Sorry. I… I better head out."

            Without another word, and barely a last glance at either of them, he turned and walked back towards the lot, his head hung. Ron took a quick look over his shoulder, and some of the fire seemed to go out of his eyes.

            Kim watched with a mix of apprehension and sadness. She was torn, between stopping Lynx, and giving Ron an earful. She'd known the former for barely a week, and the latter for a decade, but it was hard not to like Lynx, and he _had_ just pulled them out of a sticky situation, quite literally. She settled the matter quickly.

            "Ron…" she began, her voice stern.

            "Yo Kim!" Ron replied, whirling about and smiling as if the last five minutes hadn't happened. "You up for some snackage? I'm starv—"

            "Ron!"

            "Not hungry? Cool, no big, we can just—" He came up short.

            "If you weren't my best friend, I'd have already kicked you into orbit, but if you keep talking I might change my mind!" Kim said dangerously. "Look, out with it, right now. What's your problem with Lynx?" she asked. She figured she already knew, but she had to get him to say it before she could give him the wake-up call.

           He just looked at her, surprised, for a long moment. "What do you mean, KP? I've got nothing against Lynx, he's a great guy— ow!" he said. He brought his hand up and was rubbing his ear, where Rufus had just delivered a not-so-friendly bite. The mole rat apparently had less patience than Kim did.

            And hers was running preciously thin. Kim just looked at him, arms crossed, one foot tapping slowly.

            "Okay, fine. I don't like him butting in on missions. He's a great guy, as any fan of the ultimate sport of wrestling must be by default, but missions are, you know, our thing," he said, kicking at the short grass with a boot. "It's something only the two of us do," he added, more quietly.

            "Oh, Ron," Kim said, walking forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Saving the world may be our thing, but you being the best sidekick ever isn't the biggest reason you and I have been friends for so long. It's not even in the top ten," she said.

            "It's not?" Ron asked, looking up. Even Rufus, ever his master's pet, looked a little baffled by that one, and was scratching his head.

            "No way," she assured him with a smile. "It's the things that are _really_ ours, like all those years spent trick or treating, every Christmas with Snowman Hank – I'll admit, I was a closet fan. Every school dance we used to go to…"

            "But, KP… That's the problem. We don't do any of that stuff anymore. Halloween, the dances, even Snowman Hank… We didn't get those this year. I guess… I guess I was starting to feel like saving the world was all we had left, the only thing that wouldn't start changing," he said, shrugging sadly.

            Kim bit her lip. He was right, it did seem like a lot of their traditions had been falling off lately. She could have kicked herself; it seemed like she had only made the problem worse. Then she realized something.

            "Ron, you should know better than that. It isn't our traditions that make us best friends, its being best friends that makes our traditions. Don't you see? We may stop doing some things, but that's because times change. We can't watch Snowman Hank every Christmas like we used to, but just remember all the other great stuff we did. Instead of Snowman Hank, we had an awesome time together at the north pole: Even Drakken was pretty cool there for a while." That memory drew out the new beginnings of a smile on Ron's face. "Maybe we won't be the ballerina and the cowboy for Halloween anymore, but we'll figure something else out," Kim said confidently. "We always do."

            Ron finally looked up, and smiled. "You're right, Kim. Just the pair of us saving the world was great, but it might be cool having someone else along the play the distraction every once in a while."

            "So not," she corrected, smiling. "Distractions are a sidekick thing, and nobody's a better sidekick than you, Ron," Kim said. She hugged him tightly.

            "Awww, flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Possible," he said after breaking the hug. "Food, however, is another matter."

            "I'm seeing a trip to Bueno Nacho in the near future," she said in a mystical voice, holding a hand to her forehead. Then she laughed. "Wade will have me plugged into some fancy psychic brain-tester if he finds out, though; better not tell him."

            "I guess we could tell Lynx though," Ron suggested, after a short pause. "He did kinda save us back there."

            Kim smiled and nudged him playfully in the ribs. "Friends like that are handy to have around. Trust me."

                                                                                                                                -- --- --

            When they got back to the pro shop parking lot, Kim was relieved to see that Lynx was still around, along with his father's hypersonic jet. Walking around looking for a payphone would not have been Kim's idea of a good cap to the day, seeing as her Kimmunicator was both fried and sunk to the bottom of a pit full of quicksand. Lynx was sitting under the sleek, steel-gray aircraft at the bottom of the lowered entry ramp.

            He looked up as they approached, and his deep green eyes, several shades darker than the brand that ran through Kim's family, were unreadable. "I thought you might need a lift," he said. The words, which could easily have been made as either a light-hearted remark or biting sarcasm, were instead blank as an empty chalkboard. He stood and made to head up inside the jet.

            "Lynx, wait, we need to— ah!" Kim jumped back in surprise as a massive pair of watery blue eyes dropped down right into her face.

            As soon as her heart left her throat, Kim was able to see that a man was suspended from the ceiling directly in front of her. He had long but receding hair of a vivid silver-blonde, which at the moment was hanging down from his head, and a squarish, inquisitive face. He reached up – or down, as it were – to remove a pair of large goggles, which had enlarged his eyes to their initially startling proportions. A pair of pince-nez half-moon glasses was behind them, thankfully lacking the magnification effect. "You must be Kim!" he said happily. He reached both hands down – or up – and hit buttons on the sides of large, suction cup-like kneepads. They released with a pop, and the man spun in midair to land lightly on his feet.

            "And it's good to see you again, Ron," he said, turning to address him. "You'll be glad to know I salvaged the chair _and the dresser, even added a few __improvements," he said, with a squeaky chuckle that made him sound as though his laugh needed oil. "The vase, however, was a total loss. My thanks," he added in a whisper, leaning over and nudging Ron in the ribs with a wink._

            "You must be Doctor DeWard," Kim said, offering a hand.

            "Ah, yes yes yes, where are my manners?" he confirmed, shaking Kim's hand vigorously. "Redding DeWard, at your service. Your reputation precedes you, Miss Possible, and what I hadn't heard about you from the news, my son has told me, and what he didn't tell me, your parents did!" he said, speaking rather quickly. He was a man with too many words to say and always too little time to say them.

            Kim laughed nervously as Dr. DeWard finally released her hand.

            "So, Dr. D," Ron said, "Guess you get to give us a ride back to Middleton?"

            "Of course, of course. I'd been dying to try out the _Sparrow_ here for ages it seems," he said, patting the bulkhead next to him affectionately. "My son gave me the perfect opportunity; no way could I have passed it up. It's not every day that you can give a lift to a girl that saves the world, is it?"

            "Thanks all the same, doctor," Kim said gratefully.

            "Now now, think nothing of it." He clapped his hands. "Well, hurry hurry, strap in. We need to get a move on. Rita's making stuffed green peppers tonight, best not be late!" He looked up, and with a quick leap, swung the panel he'd been working on shut. He turned and bustled back up the ramp, heading towards the cockpit.

            As the ramp hissed closed behind them, Kim and Ron found Lynx already seated in one of the chairs along the left side of the plane, leaning forward with his hands clasped and his elbows on his knees. They took seats to either side of him, but he didn't look up.

            "I'm sorry about all this," he said quietly. "I should have known the two of you wouldn't really wan– need my help. Just like you said, you're the heroic duo." His voice didn't have any trace of bitterness; only resignation.

            "Don't be crazy, my man," Ron said. "You saved us back there. Forget what I said, I was being a little wacky. Well, more than usual. KP set me straight."

            Lynx finally looked up at him. "Ron, you…?"

            "Just don't start thinking you'll get to play hero every time," Ron said with a smile. "After all, that's her job," he nodded at Kim.

            "Every time…?" Lynx said, sounding faintly hopeful.

            "Don't get cold feet on us now, Lynx," Kim said teasingly. "It's not every day we offer to turn this act into a trio." There was an indignant squeak from Ron's shoulder. Kim smiled. "Sorry, Rufus. Quartet."

            "You mean…?"

            "Hey now, first you'll need to stop speaking in two-word implied questions," Ron said, nudging Lynx with an elbow.

            The newest member of Team Possible leaned back in his chair and let out a small, amazed laugh. "Mind if I ask a question in a complete sentence?" he said, sounding a little overwhelmed, but more than that, genuinely happy.

            "You just did, but we'll give you another," Kim said.

            "Why the change of heart?" he asked, mostly to Ron.

            The blonde teen leaned back thoughtfully for a moment before turning his eyes to Lynx, Rufus, and Kim, each in turn. "Because it's not about the old traditions," he said calmly. "It's about the new ones."

*A/N* - Okay, well… that didn't turn out the way I had expected, and let me assure you that is a good thing. I absolutely _hated_ my first version of this chapter. I read it over, and the only thing I could think was "Right, so, what happened to not changing a good thing?" (see author's note for chapter one). Let's just say my narrative went more off course than Drakken and Shego did in chapter two. Even still there are parts I'm not thrilled with… The primary problem I ran into is that too much of the fun of the fight scenes in the series is made up of visual gags, something that obviously doesn't translate well to the written word. It took me a while, but I managed to get at least a _little_ levity in there, no thanks to the realization that Scottish accents aren't very funny in writing. Or maybe it's the lack of bagpipe background music…

Again, tremendous thanks to all my reviewers: superviolist, Meow, jennifer, Mistress of Balmoral, Bratty, WackyD, Yamal, ShegoWannabe, koolkame, Miss Cheetah and MagRowan.

I will try to start checking out any fics all of you have posted here on FF.net and giving my own reviews; it's the least I can do.


	4. Chapter Four: Some Assembly Required

**                                                                              Chapter Four** - **Some Assembly Required**

            It was like something out of a cheesy science fiction novel. Or an extremely bad, not to mention poorly researched, western.

            "People actually _buy_ this stuff?" Shego asked incredulously. She was examining a pair of boots; _cowboy boots, which were ornamented with lights, dials, buttons, and a pair of pop-out wheels to turn the boots into what had to be the most uncomfortable roller skates in history. She tossed them aside._

            "Ouch!"

            "Oh, sorry Doc."

            "Watch where you're throwing things," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

            Shego had already stopped listening, as she peered at a display counter filled with the most confounding assortment of "technology" she'd ever seen. Boot spurs that played techno music instead of jangling; bandanas with radio antennae and headphones; a pistol belt with a cell phone slip in place of a gun holster. It was as if someone had taken the prop department of a B-movie western and cross-bred it with a modern electronics store.

            "Now, it has to be around here somewhere…" Dr. Drakken mumbled as he rooted through shelf after shelf of toy pistols modified to look like plasma rays and ten-gallon hats with TV sets implanted in them.

            "What're we looking for again?" Shego asked, looking with disgust at a female mannequin wearing a bandolier whose dozens of bullet holders had been filled with lipsticks.

            "Reinforced carrier wire," he replied distractedly, closely examining the strap of a saddle-turned-seat-cushion before shaking his head in frustration.

            "And what in the world makes you think we'll actually find something _useful_ in this dump?"

            "I checked their website, Shego, so I know they have it. I've been thorough; after all, it is the next ingredient in the designs of my ultimate plan!" he replied, taking a moment from his search to shake a villainous fist at the ceiling.

            Shego rolled her eyes. "And I don't suppose the website might have had a picture of what it looked like?" she asked sarcastically.

            "It did, actually," Drakken said. "It looked like— oh!"

            "Need to be a bit more descriptive, Doc," Shego replied lazily, trying on the lipstick-filled sash out of morbid curiosity.

            "No, Shego, I think I've found it!" he said excitedly.

            She ripped off the bandolier and turned to see what the momentously important next ingredient of their scheme looked like. Her jaw nearly hit the floor from the sheer ridiculousness of the image before her.

            Drakken was waving a lasso over his head, grinning idiotically. "Oh, how clever, how clever indeed!" he said.

            "I'm not sure if I even _want to know," Shego managed._

            Drakken stopped spinning the lasso. "Come now, Shego, can't you see a brilliant idea when it's right in front of you?" he said.

            The left side of her face twitched. "I can sure spot a fool when he's right in front of me."

            "Shego, the two skills are totally unrelated. After all, this is— wait a minute…"

            "Never mind, Doc. What's with the rope?" she said impatiently.

            "Rope? What rope?" he asked, looking around.

            She slapped her face in annoyance. "The one in your _hand_."

            "What? This?" he said, holding up the lasso. He laughed. "Oh, no, this isn't rope. It's reinforced carrier wire."

            Plasma began flickering along the edges of her gauntlets, an angry sign even Drakken couldn't fail to notice.

            "Take a chill pill, Shego. They changed it, just like everything else here," he explained. "Carrier wire is like all the little plug and wire thingies on the back of a computer, only better."

            "A scientist, and 'plug and wire thingies' is the best you can do?" she commented dryly.

            "Now there's no need for sarcasm," Drakken said testily. "This stuff can transfer data at a rate a thousand times faster than the average wiring," he said, shaking the rope at her. Shego finally noticed the wide, many-pinned plug attached to the end. It seemed even common PC wiring had not escaped the clutches of the disturbingly creative Timbuktu Tim's Technology Teepee.

            "Well if we've got what we need, let's get out of here," Shego said. "It's bad enough that you've decided to go bargain basement with superweapon construction this time, let's not spend any more time shopping around that we have to. This place creeps me out."

            "That's somewhat ironic, considering a few of the places we've put our evil lairs over the years," Drakken commented thoughtfully.

            "Have you _seen_ this stuff?" Shego said, grabbing and waving a feather headdress, which had slots for DVDs instead of feathers. "No mad scientist could do something this creepy!"

            "I don't know, I find it all rather quaint," Drakken replied. "Best of both worlds, you know. I always was rather fond of westerns," he continued wistfully.

            "Reminisce when we're clear of the freak show, Doc," Shego said impatiently.

            "Just hold your horses, Shego. This one coil of wire isn't nearly enough, we'll need to get the rest from storage."

            "Correction: _You'll_ need to get the rest," she replied in a no-nonsense voice, pointing at him. "I'll wait outside. Preferably very far away, and never to return."

            Before Drakken could say another word, she marched out. She climbed into their transport – they were still using the Winnebago – and sat in the passenger's seat, passing the time by filing her nails. It wasn't too much later that there was a ruckus coming from the back of the motor home, with much muttering and noise as Drakken struggled to get inside with his heavy load. Shego looked back to see the doctor with nearly a dozen coils of wire hanging from his arms… and one of the cowboy hat TV sets on his head. 

            "They had just enough," he grumbled, grunting with exertion as he tried to squeeze through the doorway. "But we'll need to… what?" he stopped, noticing Shego's odd expression. He raised his eyes, looking at the bottom of the brim of his hat. "Oh, do you like it?" He dropped the coils in a heap on the floor, stuck his left thumb in his belt, and held up his right hand like an imaginary six-shooter. 

            "Howdy, partner," he drawled. His western accent was perhaps even more atrocious than Shego's knowledge that he was supposed to be the brains of the operation.

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            Middleton High was buzzing with excitement as the big game with the Littleton Lemurs approached. School spirit signs had been hung everywhere in the hallways, and Kim's cheerleading practices were scheduled to get (relatively) intense as they prepared to root the Mad Dogs on. Just about the only topic of conversation was the big game. But not quite.

            "…and then she says, 'Dodge ball and dodos?! Do you have _any idea what listening to you is like? It is so _boring_!' and chases him straight out of the lair," Ron was saying, laughing almost too hard to talk._

            "Man, I'd almost feel sorry for Drakken after _that one," Lynx said, wiping away tear of mirth._

            "We sure did," Kim laughed, putting in the combination to her locker. "I figured there wasn't anything worse we could do to him than just let Shego have at it. If looks could kill…"

            "Your brothers sound like quite a handful, too," Lynx said.

            "You have _no_ idea," Kim replied, pulling open her locker. "The tweebs scare me more than any villain we've had to take down." 

            Before Lynx could reply, Wade appeared on Kim's monitor with an electronic twang and a hiss of static.

            "What up, Wade?" Kim asked.

            "It's Drakken and Shego again. They hit a small electronics store in Texas last night." Their resident genius was looking and sounding uncharacteristically miffed, probably because his early warning nets were letting an unusual amount of activity to slip through unnoticed. "I didn't even find out about it until I picked up word from a police dispatch this morning," he reported.

            "It's not like Drakken at all to keep hitting this small-time stuff," Kim said, frowning thoughtfully.

            "No kidding," Wade agreed sourly. "First it was a dinghy across the Pacific, then raiding abandoned warehouses to steal electro-dermal plastic, and now hitting some freaky cowboy-themed electronics store to take reinforced carrier wire."

            "Wait a second," Lynx interrupted, ducking around the edge of Kim's locker to talk to Wade. "What was that?"

            "What? Reinforced carrier wire? It's just an off-the-shelf—"

            "No," Lynx shook his head. "The one before that."

            "Electro-dermal plastic? Oh!" Wade gasped in realization. "I totally forgot, it's your mom's invention, and that shipment Drakken stole was marked for her!"

            "Wade, let's get a review," Kim instructed. "All I'm remembering is vaguely important information interrupted by an attempted tweeb moon landing."

            "And I'm just in the dark completely," Ron said from behind them.

            "Right," Wade said, setting to work on his keyboard. "Two nights ago, Drakken and Shego hit an abandoned warehouse in Seattle," he began, the warehouse invoice flashing onscreen, "taking the only stuff left inside: Several crates of electro-dermal plastic. Last night, they raided a place called Timbuktu Tim's Technology Teepee," he continued. The invoice disappeared to be replaced by a police report. "The only thing reported missing was their inventory of reinforced carrier wire. Well, and a combination cowboy hat and TV set."

            The three teens and one mole rat huddled around the locker all blinked at the monitor.

            "I told you the place was weird," Wade replied with a shudder.

            Kim shook herself out of trying to imagine what kind of idiot would combine a cowboy hat and a television. "Okay, what's it all mean, Wade? Drakken usually has to steal some top-secret part or two to finish whatever doomsday weapon he's concocted. Any clues with what he's taken so far?"

            "That's just the thing, Kim. The wire is fancy, but straight out of most electronics stores. The plastic is a new invention, but hardly world threatening, even in Drakken's hands." Wade shrugged helplessly. "I've got no ideas this time."

            "Lynx, do you know anything about the plastic that Drakken might be able to use?" Kim asked.

            "Hmm," he paused thoughtfully. "Well, my Mom has told me a little bit about it; like Wade said, it's hardly top-secret stuff. It's a material capable of transferring chemical and bio-electrical impulses in a biologically interpretable format."

            "Ah, English please?" Ron said helplessly.

            "It's like…" Lynx paused in contemplation. "It's like computer wire for your brain, that can transmit the signals just like your nerves do," he explained.

            "Why would Drakken want that?" Kim asked.

            "I'm not sure," Lynx said. "Right now the plastic is just used in brain surgery to bridge gaps and serve as a kind of brain-safe gauze. There are a few more experimental uses, such as a patch that gives prosthetic technology about a thirty-year leap forward, but nothing that would be worthwhile to Drakken." He shrugged. "And I doubt even he's capable of performing brain surgery on himself."

            "Well, that explains a little," Kim said, "but we still don't know why Drakken would want the stuff." There was a long, ponderous silence.

            "Is there anything else about the plastic?" Wade asked. "Anything hypothetical, untested, or potentially dangerous?"

            "Yeah, that'd put it right at the top of his shopping list," Ron commented. Rufus nodded vigorously in agreement.

            "Sorry, no clue," Lynx replied with a helpless shrug. "I'll ask my mom, though. If anyone knows something, she will."

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            Later that day, the group was taking their leave of MHS. Kim and Ron had practice every day after school, working on cheers and mad dog antics for the game. Lynx had decided to wait on them up in the top seats of the gym bleachers, partly watching practice, partly working in a small notepad he carried around with him. Neither Kim nor Ron had troubled to ask him what was in it yet, and their guesses were anything from jotted down ideas about Drakken's scheme to a catalog of Bueno Nacho recipe suggestions. It was easy to tell who guessed what. Either way, they were more amazed that Lynx had seemingly gone unnoticed up in the stands; not a single one of the other cheerleaders had once commented about him. Only Bonnie Rockwaller had even bothered giving him a second look, and her lack of sarcastic sniping spoke volumes.

            Now, though, they were enjoying the walk back to their homes. It was a pleasant, sunny day outside, with just a hint of rain on the horizon.

            "Tai Shing Pek Kwar? Really?"

            "Yeah, no kidding. He even had his own hands and feet surgically replaced with those of a monkey!" Ron said, with the barest of repulsed shivers.

            "That's a weird fighting style," Lynx said, shaking his head. "Effective, but weird."

            "Worked well enough for me," Ron said. "Hoo-waaaa!" he called, flashing through a series of vaguely comical martial arts-like poses as they walked. "Hoo-wha— whoa!" On the last pose, standing on one leg with his arms held above his head, he overbalanced and fell. He dropped towards the sidewalk, moving his hands out to catch himself, but suddenly his momentum was redirected. He felt someone grab the back of his belt, his legs flipped up over his head in a somersault, and he landed perfectly on his feet. He wobbled dizzily from the sudden motion, but was otherwise unharmed. "Whew, thanks for the save, KP," he said, looking at her gratefully. "Quick reflexes."

            Kim, however, was slightly wide eyed, and simply pointed mutely at Lynx. Ron whirled around. "Whoa!"

            "Jeet Kune Do," he replied matter-of-factly. "The most effective way to defeat your enemy is to use his own strength against him. Most people use far too much energy for each motion, from walking to punching, so you just take that and use it to make them do what you want them to."

            "Not bad," Kim said, impressed.

            "Man, is every high school kid around here some closet martial artist?" Ron asked.

            "Just the ones that save the world," Lynx replied with a smile.

            "We'll have to see what you can really do," Kim said, grinning shrewdly. "The only person who ever beat me one-on-one was my grandmother."

            Lynx raised his eyebrows. "Now that sounds like a story I have to hear," he said.

            However, the four-tone chime of the Kimmunicator interrupted their conversation.

            "Go, Wade," Kim said. Ron and Lynx stopped to look over her shoulders.

            Wade was working furiously at his keyboard, with a red light flashing above his head.

            "Oh, no more red lights. Those are always bad for us," Ron said, hunching down so that he was more hiding than looking.

            "Our luck has changed," Wade reported excitedly. "I hope you don't mind, Kim, but I called in one of your favors to borrow tasking on a spy satellite for the day. And I just found Drakken. That's the light, Ron, so you can stop biting your nails."

            The blonde teen stood up quickly and hid his hands behind his back.

            "So what've we got?" Kim asked.

            "I'm pretty sure I've located his new lair, a little southwest of Middleton, on the coastline. It's a bit weird, though; the energy signature is awfully weak."

            "Maybe he's started shutting off the lights in the torture chambers he never uses," Ron suggested.

            "Doubt it," Wade replied. "This is more like a 'superweapon isn't plugged in yet' weak."

            "Well, it's about time we pay the good Doctor a visit," Kim said. "Too bad for him, we make house calls."

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            "Confounded… What kind of _idiot turns reinforced carrier wire into __rope?" Dr. Drakken hissed angrily._

            "And here I thought it was quaint," replied Shego, rolling her eyes.

            "Quaint? Perhaps to the common consumer. But moi? Gah, even a mad scientist has to have _some semblance of practicality in his evil tools!" He had spent the better part of the day since they arrived at their new lair – such as it was – trying to remove the interfering twined fiber from around the wires themselves. It was a delicate, time-consuming process, and Dr. Drakken was neither a delicate nor patient man._

            Shego was reclined lazily on a ragged old armchair, which was more or less the only furnishing in the hollowed cave they'd selected as their lair for this scheme. It was not without it's upside, as it had only two points of entry: The front hollow hallway that led down to the ocean, and a single opening in the roof of the main cave, which at the moment was perfectly framing an extremely large early-evening moon. However, without the extensive modification, construction, and modernization they were used to, a cave was just about all it was.

            "Are you _sure_ this is all the lair budget got us?" Shego asked.

            Drakken tossed aside the tiny pocketknife he'd been using to cut apart the rope and wire. He seemed grateful for the distraction. "Yes, Shego. I know it's not much, but it will suit our needs quite nicely, I'm sure."

            "Call me slow, but I'm still a bit fuzzy on this whole cash conservation thing. Why the sudden change of modus operandi?" she asked intently.

            "It's nothing," Drakken mumbled. He sat down on the cold stone floor Indian style and crossed his arms in a huff.

            "Oh, now I _know_ there's more to it. You're a bad liar, Doc."

            "It's the blasted government," he groused. "They always seem to put a damper on my plans at the worst possible moment."

            "What? You mean the feds caught up to us?" Shego asked, looking up with mild concern.

            "No, no," Drakken said, waving impatiently. "Those goons at Global Justice couldn't catch up to us if we were standing still for the rest of our lives."

            "Who, then?"

            "The IRS," Drakken said, spitting out the acronym like a vile curse. "Those twitchy little sneaks… They caught us after the big New Year's scheme and started hounding me about the forty years of back taxes and other nonsense. Give me a federal investigation and I'll beat it, give me a teen superhero and I can at least _try_ and blow her up before she foils me. But those tax-snatchers… their eyes are everywhere!" he concluded, looking around in rabid paranoia.

            Shego rolled her eyes once more and went back to filing her nails. Then something caught the corner of her eye. She got up and walked over to their security console – which was the cowboy hat TV sitting on a stool, rigged to an old camcorder back at the cave entrance – and sneered at what she saw.

            "Hey Doc, looks like we've got a visitor."

            Drakken who had gone back to rope shredding, looked up excitedly. "Ooh, is it delivery? I ordered our next component online— I got free shipping!"

            "Close, but no cigar. It's the goofball sidekick."

            Drakken scrambled over to look for himself. "Bah! And where he is, you just know that—"

            "Looking for me, Doctor D?" a voice called from the ceiling. Drakken and Shego both looked up, and crouched at the edge of the skylight entrance was their teenaged arch-nemesis, her body haloed by the moon and her auburn hair waving slowly in the breeze.

            "Gah! How does she _do_ that?" Drakken shouted angrily.

            "What, you mean discover our lairs?" Shego asked.

            "No! The timing, the angle, the lighting…" he hissed. "She's like a walking hero shot!"

            "All part of the gig," Kim shouted in reply. She leapt from the edge of the skylight, dropping down to land right on the worn armchair. She bounced nimbly off, did a midair flip, and landed right in front of the villainous duo, taking her ready fighting stance.

            "Blasted cheerleaders," Drakken said as he backed away. Shego jumped in front of him, growling as vicious green plasma flared to life around her gauntlets.

            She lunged at Kim and the two exchanged blows, Kim trying her best to avoid the burning green light. Shego swept a kick along the floor. Kim leapt over it easily and sent a knife-edge chop at her black-haired opponent's head. Shego rolled aside, twisted into a hand plant, then to a cartwheel.

            "You call this a lair?" a voice called from the main cave entrance. 

            "The sidekick!" Drakken shouted. "Watch whose evil base of operations you're insulting!"

            "What?" Ron shouted back. "I mean, look, there's not even any big, fancy machines to blow up!"

            "Don't be so sure," Drakken shot back. "It's got a self destruct just like all the rest of them!"

            "He actually bothered with a self-destruct for this dump?" Kim said, looking around. She was brought back to focus by a glowing fist of fury angling for her face, which she ducked. From her crouch, she kicked out at Shego's midsection. The green-and-black tightsuit-clad villain caught her foot with a sneer. She wrenched her arms around, sending Kim into a dizzying horizontal spin. The auburn-haired heroine landed with an unceremonious thud, then immediately rolled to one side to vacate the spot that quickly turned into a plasma-fisted crater. She continued rolling away from Shego's relentless attacks, then stopped and swept her adversary's feet out from under her. With a quick snap, she catapulted back into a standing position. Shego stood up and advanced menacingly, plasma claws held wide to her sides.

            "Kim, duck!" a voice shouted. Kim responded without a thought, dropping to the floor just as a blur swept over her head. Shego wasn't so lucky. She only had time to look up, her eyes wide with surprise, before two boots planted themselves firmly into her chest, sending her careening backwards.

            Lynx reeled in the hook of his grapping gun, which he'd used to swing down from the ledge above, and replaced the tool on his belt. He looked at Kim. "Ron actually had the hots for her?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow and a lopsided grin. "Pale skin is one thing, but _green_?"

            "The first pictures we saw of her were black-and-white," Kim replied with a smile.

            "Aren't you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend, Kim?" Shego said, stalking towards them and looking angrier than ever. "I don't like beating up anonymous people." She paused. "Well, that's not true, but still."

            "How about a personal introduction?" Lynx said, stepping forward and taking a loose ready stance.

            Drakken and Ron, who had been pacing circles around one another nearby, each waiting for the other to make the first move, stopped and looked. "Oh, this I've got to see," Drakken said, laughing giddily. 

            "Re-he-eally," Shego said, snorting with laughter. "Well, if you want to be a splat on the wall, who am I to stop you? Heck, I'm the one to start you!"

            "You're welcome to try," Lynx replied confidently.

            "Count on it. I'll even go easy on you," she said, the green tongues of flame around her gloves fading away. "Wouldn't want to beat you up too quickly, after all."

             With that, she charged in, sending a flurry of punches and kicks at Lynx. He dodged them all, with an effortless grace that made the actions seem almost easy. He was moving to avoid every attack almost before it started, twisting and ducking countless strikes by a thin but comfortable margin. He didn't try to strike back, instead focusing on evading Shego's efforts, which was already annoying her greatly.

            "Stand still so I can crush you!" she spat angrily.

            "That's not a very good reason," he replied, hopping backwards.

            Shego roared and charged, leading with a fist aimed straight at his chest. He sidestepped fluidly, and the black-haired vixen flew by with the momentum of her charge. Lynx reached out and grabbed her extended arm, and with a quick tug sent her tumbling past him.

            "Oh, he's good," Drakken said excitedly, as if forgetting it was his sidekick Lynx was fighting. "Who is he, anyway?" he asked, turning to Ron.

            "Oh, just the new member of the team."

            "_What?_" Drakken gasped. "But, that's not fair! You can't add to your team!" he said heatedly.

            "Why not?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed.

            "It's ruins the whole hero/villain team dynamic! You add a member, now I have to find a new sidekick, too! Preferably female, slightly mysterious, and dangerous, just to maintain the demographic balance. If only Shego would let me clone her…"

           "How many times do I have to tell you, _no clones!" the lethal black-haired vixen in question shouted at him, her hand chopping through empty air where Lynx's head had been a split-second before._

            "Phooey," Dr. Drakken huffed, kicking at the stone floor.

            Kim was standing off to one side, watching Lynx and Shego's fight intently, and ready to jump in at a moment's notice. Her experienced eye could see that despite appearances, they were holding back, testing each other out. At least she knew Shego was; she couldn't be sure about Lynx, whose style and technique she'd never seen used to their fullest yet. However, she trusted her instincts. It was a pleasant change of pace for once, to be able to watch the fighting instead of being in the thick of it. With an faint, slightly uncharacteristic surge of excitement, she knew they hadn't seen anything yet.

            "All right, now you're making me mad," Shego hissed.

            "Really? I hadn't noticed," Lynx replied easily.

            She roared and swung a fist at him. He backflipped away, and she chased him, jumping into the air to deliver a flying boot to the chest. He flattened himself out on the floor in the nick of time, and she flew over his head, twisting in midair to take a clawed swipe at his defenseless back that missed, though too closely for comfort. With a nimble spin, Lynx was back on his feet, and headed after her with a burst of speed. He leapt into the air, dropping down towards her in an arc. Shego rolled out of the way just as his knee impacted the hard stone. She twisted with catlike agility to send a roundhouse kick at his head. Instead of evading the attack as usual, though, he reached up with both hands. And instead of blocking the leg, he caught it, redirecting it just enough to keep it from turning the side of his skull into a punching bag. After it passed harmlessly over his head, he wrenched downwards, pulling her leg to the floor, then just as quickly threw his arms up, sending Shego into a flat, horizontal tumble to land roughly several feet away.

            "Oh, he's _really_ good," Drakken said, his eyes wide in surprise.

            "We only take the best," Ron nodded, his arms crossed haughtily.

            "Not bad, kid," Shego said grudgingly, standing up and brushing herself off.

            He straightened, though he kept regarding her cautiously. "The name's Lynx DeWard."

            "What? Did he say DeWard?" Drakken asked.

            "Yep," Ron replied. "The newest member of the good guys. And girls," he amended.

            "Oooh," Drakken said. His face twisted in anger, and he held up a clenched and shaking fist.

            "What? You know him?" Ron asked, suddenly confused.

            "Him?" Drakken asked, his anger giving way to a look of mild surprise. "Oh, no. I _do know his parents, however," he hissed, the anger returning as suddenly as it had appeared and disappeared._

            "Moody today, aren't we?" said Ron.

            "The three of us went to high school together," Drakken replied. "His wretched mother turned me down for the senior prom, and I've never forgiven her!"

            "Wait a sec," Kim put in. "I thought you didn't turn evil until college."

            "Oh, I didn't," Drakken assured her. "But desire for evil retribution is a very retroactive emotion," he explained offhandedly.

            "No statute of limitations on revenge, I guess," Ron said.

            Just then, a doorbell rang.

            Everyone paused, looking up at the sound. "Excuse me," Drakken said sheepishly. He ran over to the door at the entrance of the cave. The bell rang again, echoing through the cavern. "I'm coming, I'm coming, don't get hasty!" Drakken shouted. He reached the door and pulled it open. "Yes, what is it?"

            "I've got a delivery here for a D. Drakken," a man said, standing beside a large brown box.

            "Yes, that's me," said Drakken.

            The deliveryman held up a form and pointed at it with a pen. "Sign here, here, here, initial here, mother's maiden name here."

            Drakken hastily filled out the form and handed it back to the deliveryman, who took it and left without another word. Drakken picked up the box and, with an effort, carried it back to where he had been standing next to Ron. No one else had moved since the doorbell rang. "Sorry about the interruption, everyone," he said, dropping the box with a grunt. 

            "I do love getting packages," Drakken said, kneeling next to the box and tearing greedily at the tape. "It's like Christmas coming early!"

            "Even if you know what's coming?" Shego asked, her face twisted in disbelief.

            "Heck yeah!" Ron shot back at her, crouching down next to Drakken. "Whatcha get? Whatcha get?" he asked excitedly.

            Drakken finally tore open the top of the box and immediately started digging through the legion of fluffy white packing peanuts. Near the top, he pulled out a small white case, holding it up with an excited gasp.

            "The Snowman Hank Anniversary Collector's DVD!" Ron squealed with delight. "With special introduction by Snowman Hank himself, and a bonus song track entitled 'Year-round Yuletide Cheer!'"

            "You know it!" Drakken said, putting the DVD gently inside a pocket before continuing to root through the package. "But that's not all I ordered…"

            After a long moment, he finally found and removed a large, metallic box. It was gleaming silver with a small wheel attached to a pole on top of it, and a panel of knobs and buttons on one side of the box. The wheel was covered in tiny plugs, spaced evenly around the circumference.

            "Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" said Drakken, who was now hopping up and down like a kid who had just gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. "My very own Sonotopic Amplifier!" he said, beaming happily and raising the box above his head, still jumping excitedly.

            "Boo-yah!" Ron said, pumping a fist. "A Sonotopic Amplifier!" He paused. "What is it?"

            Drakken stopped and looked at him, grinning evilly. "The final component of my next ultimate plan for global domination!"

            "Oh. I take back the boo-yah then," said Ron.

            "Stop playing nice with the arch enemies and turn that sucker on, Doc!" Shego shouted at him impatiently.

            "But the wires aren't ready yet! Gah, so close!" he said, stomping on the floor. "Shego, go to Plan B!"

            She immediately bolted to the place where Drakken had been working on cutting the rope wires earlier, both Kim and Lynx giving chase several steps behind her. One of the crates holding the electro-dermal plastic was there next to the piles of discarded thread, and Shego ripped off the top and reached inside, grabbing three of the two inch square pieces. Kim and Lynx froze in their pursuit when Shego charged them unexpectedly. She swung a right at Lynx, who ducked it, but with her left hand, Shego slapped one of the pieces onto his forehead. She cartwheeled aside and jumped, leveling a sideways kick at Kim. She blocked easily, but once more, Shego slapped at the face with a piece of the plastic, planting one on the auburn-haired heroine's forehead as well.

            The thin, clear squares stuck fast to their skin, all but disappearing, aside from the slight glint of moonlight on the plastic. "What're you playing at?" Lynx asked, slightly confused. "This stuff doesn't do anything to skin besides stick like glue," he said, trying unsuccessfully to dig under one of the edges of the patch.

            "Doc, what're you waiting for?" Shego yelled as she ran off, this time straight at Drakken and Ron. "Plug that thing in!"

            "Well, Plan B was _supposed_ to be activate the self-destruct and run like mad, not this!" Drakken complained. "I'm a genius, not omnipotent," he said, before trundling off with the heavy box.

            Shego was charging straight at Ron, who was staring at her wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. She slammed the last patch roughly onto his forehead, knocking him back and off his feet.

            "Hey!" he said, rubbing the place where the patch had stuck.

            "Don't worry, Stoppable," Shego shot back. "It won't hurt much. Yet."

            "Where's that infernal plug?!" Drakken moaned, running along the cave walls carrying the Sonotopic Amplifier, peering towards the floor. "I knew we needed more outlets in this place," he grumbled. "Aha!" he skidded to a halt and set the Amplifier down, pulling out the black cord and plugging it in. Shego ran up to him.

            "Hurry, Doc, turn that thing on!"

            Lynx and Kim helped Ron to his feet, and the three of them approached the evil duo cautiously. Ron was picking at the plastic patch distractedly; it had caught a clump of his unruly blonde hair more than his forehead, and he'd almost succeeded at peeling it off.

            "I'm hurrying, Shego. It's a sensitive piece of equipment!"

            "Give it up, Drakken. It's over." Kim said as the trio stopped a few feet short of the mad scientist and his lethal sidekick, surrounding them. Ron had finally pulled the patch from his forehead, but now it was stuck to his fingers, and he was trying to shake it off.

            "Oh, I think not, Kim Possible," Drakken replied with a sinister smile. "It has only just begun." He reached for a large knob on the control panel of the Amplifier, and slowly began to twist.

            For a moment, there was nothing, but as Drakken continued to turn the knob around slowly, Kim and Lynx both winced and shook their heads, then reached up to touch the patches of electro-dermal plastic. Ron gave an "eep" of surprise as an unpleasant sensation shot up his arm, then redoubled his efforts to shake off the plastic. He finally gave up and just ripped it from his fingers by pinching the non-sticky side with his free hand, then tossed the patch aside as though it had burned him.

            Drakken and Shego's evil grins only grew as the knob moved farther around. By a quarter-turn, both Kim and Lynx were gasping in pain and holding their heads.

            "What the—" Lynx whispered, right before dropping to one knee and grunting in agony.

            When the knob reached halfway, Kim whimpered and clutched her head with both her hands, dropping to her knees. Her face was contorted in pain.

            "What're you doing to them, Drakken?" Ron growled, taking an angry step forward. Shego jumped out to meet him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him easily off the ground. Ron struggled, uselessly.

            "Oh, just giving them a taste of what the entire world will soon feel, if they do not make me their supreme leader," Drakken said dangerously. With a final, sudden movement, he twisted the knob to full.

            Kim and Lynx screamed, then jerked and fell to the ground, limp and silent. Drakken twisted the knob back to its original place and unplugged the machine. 

            "I'm sorry we can't stay to dispose of you properly," he said, picking up the Amplifier and starting towards the door. "But we've got a lot of work yet to do."

            Shego grinned viciously and tossed Ron aside into the stone wall. He slid to the floor, unconscious, and none of the three heroes could hear the maniacal laughter that echoed through the cavern.

*A/N* - The plot leavens! No, wait a second… The plot expands! Er, hold on, that's not quite it… The plot congeals? Nah… Oh, I've got it! The plot thickens! That's the one!

I finally saw _A Sitch in Time last night, meaning I won't have to worry as much about backstory knowledge as I did before. Here's the height of trivia for you: I basically knew nothing about the series, having caught only bits and pieces of just a couple episodes (Twin Factor and Crush, I now know), until I watched just about the entire KP marathon after the _Sitch in Time_ premiere on Thanksgiving weekend. Amazing how quickly you can grow to love a show and everything about it, isn't it?_

Continuing gratitude to all my reviewers: superviolist, Meow, jennifer, Mistress of Balmoral, Bratty, WackyD, Yamal, ShegoWannabe, koolkame, Miss Cheetah, MagRowan and AOM.


	5. Chapter Five: Pieces of the Puzzle

**                                                                                  Chapter Five – Pieces of the Puzzle**

            The next thing Ron heard was the faint, droning thump of a helicopter. He blinked groggily and struggled into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head. He looked up just in time to see half a dozen black, snakelike coils drop through the cavern skylight to the floor of the cave. One after another, six dark-clad individuals slid down the ropes, landing lightly on their feet and dropping to their knees to survey the area. One waved a hand signal upwards, and a seventh cord slipped down, followed quickly by a seventh, smaller figure in the same black jumpsuit. Ron slid his back to the wall apprehensively as the new arrivals began walking over towards them.

            He let out a deep sigh of relief when the smaller figure stepped into the shaft of moonlight from above.

            "Ronald, are you all right?" Dr. Director asked, a bit of worry making its way into her usual no-nonsense voice.

            "Yeah, I'm fine; KP always says I've got a hard head," he said, standing up.

            Two of the other Global Justice agents had bent down to check out Kim and Lynx. They gave their commander thumbs up. "Looks like they're just stunned," one observed.

            Just then, Kim moaned softly and started to rise. The agent helped her sit up. "Wha…?" she muttered.

            "Kimberly," Dr. Director said briskly, kneeling down beside her. "What happened here?"

            Kim blinked several times. "Dr. Director! Wait— Ron, Lynx," she gasped, looking around. She let out a sigh when she saw both of them, Ron standing nearby looking at her worriedly, and Lynx not far away, already stirring back to consciousness as well.

            "Kimberly, we need to know what happened here," Dr. Director repeated.

            Kim looked back to her and took a breath to gather her thoughts. "It was Drakken and Shego. We had them cornered, right here, until Drakken turned on his new gizmo…"

            "He said it was a Sonotopic Amplifier," Lynx supplied, rubbing his forehead where the patch of electro-dermal plastic was still affixed. His hand stopped and his eyes widened in remembrance. "The patches… the electro-dermal plastic. The Amplifier did something with the plastic… I'm not sure…" he frowned, struggling to remember.

            "It's all a blur," Kim said, similarly frustrated.

            "When he turned on the amplifier-thingie, the two of you started… screaming," Ron put in with a shudder.

            "Huh? You didn't…?" Lynx asked, confused.

            Ron bent down and picked up the crumpled piece of plastic that Shego had tried to slap on him. "I got it off right before he turned the machine on, but it was stuck to my finger. I had a weird feeling," he said, struggling for the right words to describe it. "It wasn't pain, but… It sure didn't feel good, either."

            Dr. Director had listened to it all quietly. "We were afraid of this," she said gravely. The three teenagers looked at her quizzically. "We've been tracking Drakken's activity for the last week, but it wasn't until we logged his order of a Sonotopic Amplifier that we realized what he might be trying to do," she explained. "We came as soon as we could, but obviously not soon enough."

            "And we let him get away," Kim muttered dejectedly.

            "You had no idea what he was capable of," Dr. Director corrected her. "If anything, I should be apologizing for not getting in touch with you through Wade the instant we realized Drakken's plan. I should have known you'd be three steps ahead of us and already taking the fight to him." She rose and offered a hand to Kim, pulling her to her feet.

            One of the other agents offered a kip-up to Lynx, who stood and brushed himself off just as Dr. Director turned to him. "Mr. DeWard," she said, offering him a hand. He blinked, slightly surprised at being recognized. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Dr. Director, the leader of Global Justice."

            He took the hand and shook it. "Doctor." He nodded respectfully.

            "Dr. Director, you said you've figured out Drakken's plan?" Kim prompted.

            "Yes, somewhat, and I'll fill you in on the details we know so far on the way back to Middleton," she replied. "We're heading to the same place; to the one person who can explain just what Drakken is now capable of."

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            The ride back to Middleton was quick, but Dr. Director's explanation of what they knew about Drakken's plan was even quicker. They actually knew very little that Kim, Ron, and Lynx didn't, aside from the specifications of the Sonotopic Amplifier. It was a machine that enhanced ambient magnetic and electronic signals, things such as radio waves that filled the air and space around them at all times. Other than that tidbit of technological trivia, Dr. Director was staunchly silent, saying only that they would find out everything else in detail when they arrived at their destination.

            The thrum of the helicopter's blades changed as it descended, coming to a landing right in the driveway of a house in the heart of Middleton suburbia. The agents and Dr. Director hopped out as the chopper spooled down, followed by Ron, Kim, and Lynx. The lattermost's eyes widened when he realized where they'd landed.

            "My house?" he asked.

            "Indeed," Dr. Director replied matter-of-factly. "Who better to explain the details of Drakken's scheme than your mother, the inventor of the key ingredient to his plans?"

            The group of agents and teenagers walked inside. The doctors DeWard seemed relatively unperturbed at the arrival of a half-dozen Global Justice agents, the director of the world security organization herself, and three teenagers, including their son, still wearing their mission clothes and looking fairly rumpled from their recent battles in Drakken's cave lair.

            Lynx's father bombarded Dr. Director with questions almost the second she walked in the door, firing them off so quickly that she blinked her good eye in astonishment. He didn't even wait for answers before he moved on, his platinum blonde hair waving as he proceeded to carve through the imposing line of black-clad Global Justice agents, shaking all their hands – literally, both left and right of each agent – vigorously.

            Mrs. Dr. DeWard was a much different case. While her eldest son had undoubtedly picked up pieces of his father's energetic, inquisitive nature, it was easy to see where he had gotten his usual somber, ever-observant temperament. She was not imposing at first glance, only a half-hand taller than the three fairly evenly statured teenagers, with wavy black hair and dark brown eyes. She shook hands with all their guests – but only one hand of each, and with curt nods instead of a hail of questions for the agents. She smiled when she greeted Dr. Director, and Ron as well, though it dimmed a watt and she shook his hand quickly, as though fearing his very touch might be dangerous. After hearing the horror stories of Ron's "help" moving the DeWards in, Kim could understand why. Her smile brightened once more when she reached Kim, and her eyes lingered a split-second longer on her than they had on the others, leaving Kim with a feeling as though she were being looked straight through. Mrs. DeWard seemed satisfied, though, and she released her hand and turned back to Dr. Director.

            "So doctor, what brings you here?" she asked. Her voice was similar to the person whom she addressed; no-nonsense, brisk, and authoritative.

            "Dr. DeWard, we're in need of your expertise. I presume you're familiar with Dr. Drakken?"

            Her mouth twitched into a brief, wry smile. "It would be hard to forget Drew Lipsky," she replied, ushering them all into the spacious living room. Everyone found a seat, though three agents had stayed by the front door to take up station, probably as guards, and another two remained standing at the entrance to the living room. Kim found a seat between Ron and Lynx on one couch, while Dr. Director and the remaining agent sat on a second sofa, and both doctors DeWard took to armchairs on either side of the fireplace. Mr. DeWard's was remarkably cushioned; he nearly sank down into it. Mrs. DeWard's was less plush, but had the careworn look of a long favorite.

            "Now, what has he done that brings you here?" Mrs. DeWard continued when they were all seated. "I've been half-wondering when he was going to get around to swearing revenge on me for turning him down for the senior prom, but I doubt that's what you're here for."

            "Tried to ask her after I did. More fool he," Mr. DeWard put in with a mousy chuckle. His laugh still needed oil.

            "Dear, why don't you get everyone something to drink," Mrs. DeWard suggested gently. She seemed to realize quickly that her husband's effervescent presence might slow down the proceedings somewhat.

            "Certainly, certainly," he replied, oblivious to the clever dismissal, hopping up and bustling energetically towards the kitchen, without even bothering to ask what anyone wanted.

            "I believe you're aware of the theft of the supply of electro-dermal plastic from your old warehouse in Seattle?" Dr. Director asked.

            "Yes, I received the report."

            "Well, Dr. Drakken has also recently obtained two other key items: reinforced carrier wire, and a Sonotopic Amplifier."

            "Ah. So he's managed to discover that prickly little side effect of the plastic, has he?" Dr. DeWard added everything up faster than Kim would have believed possible. Even Dr. Director seemed taken aback by how quickly she had replied. "I'd hoped all data regarding that experiment was still safely hidden."

            "Drakken raided your overseas research facility in Tokyo just over a week ago," Dr. Director said. "We believe he stumbled upon the classified files totally by accident. Of course, anything marked Top Secret would have caught his eye immediately."

            "Quite," Dr. DeWard replied, frowning. "How far along is he in construction?"

            "We're not sure," Dr. Director replied. She looked at Kim expectantly.

            Kim was caught slightly off guard at the question, and blinked to gather herself. "Well, the Amplifier arrived right in the middle of our fight with Drakken and Shego. The plastic was still in the crates as far as I could tell, and the carrier wire was next to it," she recalled. "It looked like Drakken was working on it when we first got there, taking off the rope covering the wires."

            "Rope?" Dr. DeWard asked quizzically.

            "Drakken obtained the wire from an… from a…" Dr. Director frowned in consternation. "Well, from a very weird electronics store where it had been made to look like rope. That doesn't matter, though, aside from the fact that it will slow him down."

            "And it says he certainly hasn't changed in twenty years," Dr. DeWard said with a wry smile. She paused thoughtfully. "Well, if he only just got the Amplifier, he'll need some time to modify it. I don't think he'll be ready to carry out his plan any sooner than a week from now."

            "Ah, sorry," Ron said sheepishly. "What was his plan again?"

            Dr. DeWard looked at him. "He is going to use the Amplifier, combined with the wire and plastic, to create a machine capable of enhancing the ambient electronic signals in approximately a five hundred mile radius, disrupting the sensory perceptions of all people inside the area of effect to produce an extreme disorientation and sensory overload in order to ransom control of the world."

            Ron blinked. "Okay, yeah, I got the 'ransom control of the world' part, but the rest is just... out there."

            Kim and Lynx looked similarly confused; even the agents, silent as stone, shared pointed looks and subtle shrugs. Only Dr. Director seemed to have followed. She was cradling her chin thoughtfully, her unpatched eye staring distantly towards the coffee table.

            "He's going to build a machine that basically overloads the brains of everyone within five hundred miles," Dr. DeWard repeated in plainer tones.

            Kim and Lynx both "ah"ed in understanding.

            "Oh, okay," Ron said. "When you put it that way…" he trailed off. "Still no, sorry."

            Lynx rolled his eyes with a smile, while Kim groaned and fell back into the couch, covering her face with a hand. There was an odd touch at the end of her fingers. With a start, she realized that she had all but forgotten about the patch of plastic still there on her forehead. She sat back up.

            "Wait a second. What about these, then?" Kim said, pointing at her forehead, where the lights cast an odd glint, revealing the plastic.

            Lynx looked up and touched the patch on his own face. "Oh, yeah, I'd nearly forgotten about these things." He dug at an edge, to no result. "Wish I could get it off," he muttered.

            Dr. DeWard's face darkened as though covered by a sudden eclipse. "Don't tell me…"

            Her tone was severe; Kim and Lynx froze like two children who had gotten their hands caught in the cookie jar. "Ah…" Lynx stammered unsurely.

            "Did he use it? Did Drakken use the amplifier when the two of you had those patches on?" she asked.

            "Erm… Well… yeah," Kim admitted, for some reason feeling like a child who had to admit to her parents that she'd been lying.

            "Oh, dear," Dr. DeWard said softly. All appearance of sternness or anger had disappeared, to be replaced by intense worry.

            Kim and Lynx shared a startled look. "Wait a second," Kim said. "I feel fine now. It's not…"

            Dr. DeWard looked up at them and noticed their fearful expressions. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she gasped apologetically, holding up her hands. "You'll be fine, it's just, well, I can't imagine what it felt like. I wouldn't _want_ to imagine."

            "I can't remember, really," Lynx said with a shrug.

            "Me, either," Kim seconded.

            "Well, for the better, I'm sure," Dr. DeWard said. "Now, we'll need to get those patches off, though. Wait right there." She rose and headed out of the living room. Just as she walked out, Mr. DeWard walked back in, struggling under the weight of a gigantic contraption that Kim thought looked remarkably similar to her father's eggnog maker; a tall, metallic cylinder with a scattered motley of buttons and levers. One of the agents walked over quickly to help him carry the machine. They set it down on the coffee table with a loud clank.

            "Ah, thank you, lad," Dr. DeWard said to the agent who'd given him a hand. "Here we are, drinks for everyone!" he proclaimed.

            Everyone just looked at him oddly, even Lynx.

            Dr. DeWard glanced around. "Well, go on," he said, gesturing at the machine. Still no one moved.

            "Well, fine then," he said, slightly flustered. "I'll go first. One root beer!" he called, loudly and clearly. The machine immediately began whistling and churning, vibrating slightly along the table. With a loud hiss of steam, a small hatch at the bottom popped open, and a tray slid out, a frothy mug of root beer sitting on it, chilled glass and all.

            Everyone "ah"ed in realization and made their orders, one by one.

            "So this is the portable fountain you told me you were working on," Lynx said as he picked up a fizzing crème soda from the tray. "I thought you literally meant a _fountain_, like the water and sculptures kind."

            "Oh, heavens no! What good would that be? No use to anyone!" Dr. DeWard said, chuckling and taking a long swig of his root beer.

            "Wouldn't've been the craziest thing he's ever made," Lynx whispered to Kim, who had to stifle a giggle.

            "One grande-sized Dr. Pipperup, and one eggnog!" Ron veritably shouted at the machine. Dr. DeWard froze with his mug halfway to his lips and watched as the machine went through an even louder series of thuds and whistles, then let out a visible sigh when two drinks popped out of the hatch. The Dr. Pipperup was even in a Bueno Nacho cup.

            "Oh, good," Dr. DeWard said with relief. "I wasn't sure I'd fixed double orders yet. It had been mixing whatever drinks you asked for all into one, which made for some interesting taste testing, believe you me."

            "You've got one handy-dandy machine on your hands, doc," Ron said admiringly. "Yo, Rufus!" he called. The naked mole rat scurried from his pocket up to his shoulder, where Ron held up the glass of eggnog so the mole rat could reach it.

            Dr. DeWard gave a small squeak of surprise, then quickly bustled over, leaning down to peer at Rufus intently. He produced a pair of glasses from his pocket and put them on. They magnified his watery blue eyes to immense proportions, nearly startling Rufus right off Ron's shoulder.

            "Heterocephalus glaber!" he said excitedly. He blinked, a rather disconcerting action with his eyes magnified as they were. He backed away and took off the glasses, replacing them in his pocket. "I'd never seen one of that species before. Rufus, you said his name was?"

            Ron and the mole rat both nodded, the rodent giving an affirmative squeak as well.

            "Fascinating," he breathed.

            "Oh, good, you're back, dear," Mrs. DeWard said as she walked back into the room, holding a small vial. "Excuse me, I need to remove a couple patches of electro-dermal plastic from Lynx and Kim," she said, as if mentioning the need to run out for a gallon of milk.

            Mr. DeWard shuffled backwards, looking between his wife, his son, and Kim. "Oh? Where'd they pick those up?" he asked curiously.

            "I'll explain later," she assured him, kneeling in front of the two teenagers. She unscrewed the cap of the vial and pulled it off. There was a small rod attached to the inside with a brush on the end, like a bottle of rubber cement. There was a clear, slightly syrupy mixture inside the vial, some of which she dabbed onto the brush.

            "Now, hold still, dear," she said, turning to Kim. "It might sting a bit." She reached up and went over the patch of plastic with the brush. Kim shivered; it felt cold, and the skin beneath the plastic tingled slightly. After covering the whole patch, Mrs. DeWard reached up and easily pulled the plastic square free. "There we are." She turned to Lynx and dabbed some more of the clear liquid onto the brush, and similarly removed the patch on his forehead.

           "Thank you, Dr. DeWard," Kim said, lightly brushing her fingers along the skin where the plastic had been.

            "Think nothing of it, dear," she replied, smiling.

            "Well, I believe that's all we can do at the moment," Dr. Director said, standing and placing the now empty cup of coffee she'd selected on the table.

            "Wait, what about Dr. Drakken?" said Kim. "We've got to stop him before his machine is ready, don't we?"

            "Patience, Kimberly," Dr. Director soothed. "As Dr. DeWard said, by our estimates it will be nearly a week before he's ready. And until then, there's little we can do anyway. I'm afraid Dr. Drakken has gone to ground."

            "Well, yeah, he always hides during his schemes," Ron said. "Can't you just find him with your super-high-tech GJ satellites?"

            "No, I mean literally underground," Dr. Director replied. "As in subterranean."

            "Oh!" said Ron, nodding. "So you already know where he is then? Boo-yah!"

            "Not exactly."

            Ron, who had pumped a fist to go with his boo-yah, froze mid-motion. "Eh?"

            "Our satellites tracked him leaving the lair where you fought him, and into a system of caves," Dr. Director explained. "The rock formations are composed of a material which blocks our satellites on everything from radar to infrared, which means we don't know where he went from there. Maps of the caves reveal that they're a gigantic labyrinth of tunnels, many of them unstable. It would be risky, and ultimately fruitless, to try and chase him through there. It's likely we wouldn't even find him before his machine is ready."

            "So what are we going to do?" Kim asked anxiously. "We can't just sit around and wait for him to turn on his machine down there and hold the world for ransom."

            "Don't worry," Dr. Director soothed. "The rock composition will also prevent him from activating his new weapon effectively. In order to complete his plan, he will need to return aboveground, and we have all exits to the cave system under constant surveillance. As soon as Dr. Drakken shows his face again, we'll see him." She smiled. "And you'll be the first person we call."

*A/N* - I decided to cut this chapter off a little sooner than I had planned. Primarily because otherwise it would have been utterly gargantuan, and loaded with a ton of plot movement without much room for the reader to breathe (kinda like Drakken's plan: Brain overload!). However, I also decided to cut it short because I wanted to get an update out promptly as opposed to making everyone wait another day or two.

Does anyone else think Dr. Director's name sounds/reads incredibly weird as just "Director"? The "Dr." is removable for all the other characters (DeWard, Possible, Drakken, et al), but when I took it out when I was identifying her, it just kind of… clunked. I don't know if it's simply the way it sounds, or if it's one of those odd flukes of the English language that you get when you use a word that is a noun, adjective, _and_ verb as a name. Come to think of it, they never call her "Director" in the series, either; they always say Doctor. Oh well; another thing to tack under "quirky discoveries made when turning KP into fanfiction". A growing list, indeed.

Muchas gracias to all my reviewers once more; I'd give you all Bueno Nacho Bueno Bucks for Christmas, if there was a Bueno Nacho. I guess you'll just have to settle for continuing kudos in a tiny little paragraph in my author's notes (and reviews to your stories; I haven't forgotten, honest! [Just procrastinated.]). Without further ado, thanks once again to superviolist, Meow, jennifer, Mistress of Balmoral, Bratty, WackyD, Yamal, ShegoWannabe, koolkame, Miss Cheetah, MagRowan and AOM.

As of this typing, less than 45 hours until _Return of the King_ premieres! Heh, won't that be a fun notation for someone to read a few months from now?


	6. Chapter Six: The Waiting Game

**                                                                                    Chapter Six - The Waiting Game**

            "Far be it from me to complain, but are you sure about all this, Doc?"

            "Of course I'm sure, Shego" Dr. Drakken replied. "Can you blame a mad scientist for wanting to splurge a little after a critical victory over his arch foe?"

            "Well, okay, splurging is one thing," Shego replied. "But this?"

            Drakken glowered at her. "Quiet, Shego. If you think I'm going overboard, then Hans is the first cutback." The thickly muscled man giving Shego a manicure looked up in alarm.

            "Oh, no," she replied. "If anything goes, it's going from _your_ legion of body servants first."

            Drakken opened his mouth to reply, then glanced around. "Well… perhaps the litter is a bit much," he admitted from the plush cushions of the large, throne-like carrier. A half-dozen servants stood at rapt attention, ready to heft the bars and carry Drakken whither he will at a moment's notice.

            "I was thinking more along the lines of the trained red wolf bodyguards," said Shego, "but yeah."

            "What?!" Drakken gasped. "Not my Puddles and Razor!" he cried, hugging the two giant animals protectively. They were massive dogs, easily taller than the sitting Drakken, and their fur was a smoldering red-brown. Shego didn't know where he'd found them, or who on earth had been brave enough to tame and train them (even she couldn't help but cringe the first time they'd growled and bared their teeth at a bumbling henchman); all she knew was that, like the rest of their new hideout, they hadn't come cheaply.

            "Okay, okay," Shego said soothingly. "What about the satellite TV? I mean, why pay for 397 channels when you can just launch your own satellite and get them for free?"

           Drakken stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. That idea has merit, Shego. Evil merit!" he rubbed his hands. "Gunther? Gunther, where are you?!"

            An elderly man in a butler's uniform stepped forward. "Yes, Most High Lordly One?" he said, with only the barest tinge of sarcasm; well below Drakken's radar.

            "Gunther, prepare a satellite!" Drakken ordered. "We're going to pirate every TV signal!" he laughed wickedly. "This will tech those networks a lesson about overcharging!"

            "As ambitious as it is devious, Most High Lordly One," Gunther replied. He gave a mocking bow and walked away, shaking his head behind Drakken's back. He hadn't the faintest clue how to program or launch a satellite, but he'd simply say it was done and leave the subscription intact. Drakken would never be the wiser… and Gunther would never search the wanted ads based solely on pay rate ever, _ever again._

            Most of the other dozens of new hires were in the same boat. Drakken had said he was splurging after winning the skirmish with his teenaged nemesis, but it was more akin to a ridiculous orgy of rampant expense. There were the new servants: Litter carriers, Shego's manicurist and massage artist, the half-dozen butlers besides Gunther, not to mention the radiant women whose sole purpose was to stand around Drakken waving massive feather fans. That didn't even count the lair itself, which was more advanced than NORAD, the White House, and Air Force One put together, never mind any of their previous lairs. None of their earlier hideouts could hold a candle to the location of their newest evil den.

            "Doc, where on earth did you find the funding for all of this?" Shego couldn't help but ask. The question had been nagging her ever since Drakken had forked over quintuple-time to contract out the hazardous construction at record pace, without even batting an eyelash. "A week ago we were on a road trip in a Winnebago, now this?" She waved vaguely at the entire expanse of their headquarters.

            "You can't fault a madman for wanting to live a little, can you?" he asked.

            "Well, maybe… But I thought you said you were in trouble with the IRS. We couldn't even afford a single henchman."

            "Oh, they were never really _that close to my evil fortune," he said dismissively. "It was just getting annoying having to brainwash an auditor every single week," he explained. "They'd walk into our lairs, take one look around, and start battering me with endless questions." He grinned. "Let them try and find me here."_

            "I've gotta say, you picked one heckuva location," Shego admitted. "You done good, doc."

            "Oh, yes, I done very good," Drakken agreed. "Defeating Kim Possible may have been the battle and not the war, but the chips have fallen perfectly into place. My new plan is _foolproof!" he proclaimed. "They could be lost for weeks if they tried to chase us through the caves, and if they try to wait us out while my Sonotopic Disrupter is completed, it will be too late!" he cackled. "For only you and I know of the secret entrance and exit in—"_

            "Doc!" Shego cut him off insistently. "Only you and I know the secret entrance. Let's keep it that way."

            Drakken pouted. "But Shego, you know how much I like to rant!"

            "Rant when we don't have two dozen questionably loyal people standing in earshot. No offense, Hans," she said, patting her manicurist's hand reassuringly.

            "Oh, don't be such a worrywart," Drakken groused. "Our security is impregnable, our fortress undetectable, and our plans unstoppable! Kim Possible's arm will have grown long indeed if she can reach us here," he said, grinning confidently.

            "Beg your pardon?" Shego blinked. 

            "Eh? Oh. Sorry. Sometimes my evil metaphors get a little archaic," he apologized. "I can stick to the new school hip-slang if that's yo bag. I got no beef with chillin' to my peeps."

            Shego rolled her eyes and leaned back in her beach chair, pulling down the sunlamp and flipping on her sunglasses. "I think I like it better when you're totally incomprehensible," she muttered.

                                                                                                                                -- --- --

            "You know what? Waiting really bites," Kim said, slamming her locker shut. "I'm not used to all this standing around and letting Drakken make the first move."

            "So not the drama," Lynx teased her lightly.

            Kim finally broke a small smile. "Okay, so I'm whining. I've saved the world a few dozen times, I'm entitled," she said coyly. The three of them began walking towards the gym; last period was finally over, and it was time for cheerleading practice.

            "Yeah, but isn't the whining my job?" Ron asked, grinning. "Watch it, KP. You don't want to be turned into the sidekick, do you? Others are waiting to step into your job if you get demoted," he said, looking pointedly at Lynx. "Speaking of which, that means _I would get to be bumped up to the skilled and reliable in-betweener," he said thoughtfully._

            "Nah, not quite," Lynx corrected. "I'm a follower, not a leader."

            "Darn," Ron muttered. "And I can't be the hero; that's way too big a promotion in one swoop."

            "I guess my job is safe then," Kim said, shaking her head and trying hard not to burst out laughing. It was a growing struggle. "Thanks, you two. I needed that," she said gratefully.

            "What are sidekicks, not to mention best friends, for?" Ron replied.

            "I'm not sure what a skilled and reliable in-betweener is, exactly, but I guess this fits somewhere in the job description," Lynx added.

            Kim nudged him in the ribs. "One thing I know is 'punching bag'. It's high time I find out what you're made of."

            "What, here?" Lynx asked with feigned surprise. "You know fighting in the hallways is frowned upon, Kim," he said, mock-seriously.

            "This afternoon, right after practice," Kim specified. "And no more stalling. Tomorrow's the big game with Littleton, and you're not getting off the hook all the way until the weekend."

            "I don't suppose you'd just accept an early surrender?" he asked.

            "Not a chance," she said, smiling mischievously.

            "Well then, I accept your challenge, Kim Possible," he replied with a sanctimonious little nod.

            "I look forward to meeting you mano-a-womano, Lynx DeWard," Kim replied, nodding in kind.

            "So," a voice interrupted suddenly from behind them. "It is you." 

            Kim, Ron, and Lynx all stopped and turned, and Kim scowled. Bonnie Rockwaller, her arch-enemy of the non-mad scientist variety, was standing right behind them, hands on her hips, her turquoise eyes slitted in an even angrier expression than usual. However, Kim realized Bonnie wasn't staring at her or even Ron; she was glowering at Lynx. Even more surprising was when she looked over to her friend to see that he was glaring at her in kind, his deep green eyes narrowed.

            "Rockwaller," he said coolly.

            "DeWard," she shot back, her tone even more frigid.

            "Ah, you two… know each other?" Kim asked, her head tilted in confusion.

            "You could say that," Bonnie sneered, without looking at her.

            "And what a friendly acquaintance it must be," Ron said, taking a wary step back. Neither Lynx nor Bonnie had so much as blinked.

            "Come on, we need to get to practice," Kim said, grabbing Bonnie by the elbow and tugging her towards the gym doors. Ron, bless his sidekick's sixth sense, put a hand on Lynx's shoulder as well. 

            "Hey, uh, I forgot something back at my locker. Wanna come with?"

            "Okay. Sure," Lynx replied, his eyes never leaving Bonnie as Kim tugged her insistently past him.

            "Better watch your _step, DeWard," Bonnie snapped as Kim opened the door to the gym. Lynx stared daggers at her as the brunette was tugged inside._

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            "Okay, that was the _height_ of freaky," Kim said, taking a sip from her drink and she and Ron sat at a booth in Bueno Nacho after practice.

            "Any idea what that was all about, KP?" Ron asked, setting aside one of his nacos for Rufus.

            She shook her head. "I couldn't get a word out of Bonnie. It's funny; normally I'd be happy that she was quiet for a whole hour."

            "Lynx was ditto incommunicado," Ron reported just before taking a giant bite of his burrito.

            Kim sighed and rested her chin on her hand. She was silent for a long moment. "He didn't come to watch practice. Where is he, anyway?"

            "Said he was going home," Ron informed her. "That was _all he said, in fact."_

            There was a faint jingle as the front door opened. Kim looked over, then did a double-take and sat up straight. "Speak of the devil…"

            Lynx spotted them quickly and walked up to their table. Kim scooted over to make room; Ron's side of the table was too covered with food to accommodate anything other than himself and one naked mole rat.

            "I thought I might find you here," Lynx said, with a weak smile. It quickly disappeared, and his face grew serious. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. I should've known it was only a matter of time before Bonnie recognized me."

            "What's the sitch with you two?" Kim asked, a little more insistently than she'd intended.

            "We met at a teen leadership conference last summer," Lynx explained. "Frankly, I'm not sure how she got there."

            "Wait a second," Ron said, biting his lip and shaking a finger. "KP, you remember the chocolate bar sales drive, back when Bonnie was trying to get elected cheerleading captain?" he asked.

            "How could I forget?" Kim said, scowling. "I still don't know how she sold three truckloads worth of candy bars."

            "Yeah, and that's just it. I read in the paper this past summer that all those candy bars she sold got her some sort of public service award, and an invite to a big conference in the one and only Washington!"

            "The state?" Kim asked.

            Ron blinked. "Okay, so not the one and only. The capital, D.C.!"

            "Yeah, that's the one," Lynx confirmed. "I got in for winning some state science competition. I didn't really want to go, but my dad knew the sponsor, so I didn't even try and talk my way out of it. Bonnie and I met there, and…" he paused, casting a furtive glance at Kim. "Well, we kind of hit it off." 

            Kim spat out a mouthful of her soda, and Ron dropped his burrito to the table with a plop, a horrified expression on his face.

            "Whoa whoa whoa," Kim said, waving her hands and shaking her head emphatically. "You? And _Bonnie? Bonnie at a leadership conference?!" she rambled, incredulous. "You and Bonnie?" she repeated._

            Lynx blinked at the fervor in her voice. "It wasn't like _that_, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking." He shook his head at the roundabout wording, and paused to collect his thoughts. "Bonnie and I met on a connection flight on the way there. She seemed nice enough, and I've never exactly been quick to pick up friends, of one version or the other," he admitted, looking intently at his folded hands on the table and flushing slightly. "She seemed interested in spending time with me, for some reason, but I've never been a 'night on the town' type." He sighed. "Whether it was because of that, or if she'd just planned it all along, I don't think I'll ever know, but in the end… let's just say she got a good laugh at my expense."

            "What happened?" Kim found herself asking before she could think to stop.

            Lynx glanced at her and seemed to wage an internal struggle. Finally, he sighed. "There was a big dinner party on the final day. Huge, formal, tuxes, bowties, and all," he said, with mild distaste (more for the memory than the formality). "She asked me to dance, and I figured 'what the heck'; I wasn't going to see her after that day, she was heading here to Middleton and me to Seattle. Hardly a mushy, sentimental farewell," he assured, noticing Kim and Ron's not quite identical looks of disgust, "but I figured I owed it to her after turning her down."

            "I'm not seeing the dastardly consequences," Ron said, sounding almost bored. Kim glared at him.

            Lynx laughed hollowly. "Oh, just wait. We danced, and eventually got near the head table. That was when she said, almost offhandedly, 'You know, no one turns down Bonnie Rockwaller'. I barely even had time to look surprised before she said 'Watch your step', and tripped me straight into the head table, spilling half the dinner on the guests of honor."

            Ron cringed. "Man, I didn't even think _Bonnie could be __that harsh," he said with a shudder. Even Rufus looked scandalized._

            Kim felt her resentment of Bonnie Rockwaller rise faster than one of her father's experimental rockets. She clenched her shaking fists, crushing her (thankfully near-empty) drink into an icy mess. The cold quickly jarred her back to her senses.

            Lynx shrugged offhandedly. "It sounds worse than it was, I suppose." He paused, and an uncharacteristically devilish grin appeared on his face. "Besides, I got her back."

            "Ah," Ron said excitedly. "Now the game's afoot, eh?"

            "That night, I snuck into her hotel room," Lynx continued. "Those card-keys are so easy to splice, it's almost funny."

            "Hold on. You do realize you're in mixed company for this story, right?" Kim put in with a raised eyebrow.

            Lynx looked shocked. "Oh, jeez, nothing that bad," he explained quickly. "I just got into her luggage and… modified… her hairdryer a bit. It worked fine for her that morning, but she had _tons of fun getting through the baggage check at the airport."_

            "How so, mon conspirator?" Ron asked, leaning over slyly.

            Lynx couldn't hold back a laugh. "They don't like it when people try and take something that looks like a high-powered laser rifle on an airplane."

                                                                                                                                  -- --- --

            The sun was beginning to dip below the western horizon, casting the streets of Middleton in a warm, orange-red glow. Kim, Ron, and Lynx walked along at a sedate pace, just enjoying it all. Rufus was snoozing contentedly in the crook of Ron's elbow, swaying gently as he walked.

            "So your grandmother actually beat you. Man, I've got an interesting standard to reach," Lynx said, shaking his head ruefully.

            "Oh, you better believe it," Ron said. "Kim's nana, by the words of Dr. Drakken, is one bad grand-mother."

            "No doubt. Or, perhaps," he said, glancing at Kim with a mischievous look, "Ms. Possible here is simply overrated."

            "Oh, now you're going to get it," Kim replied, giving him a competitive smirk.

            "Only time will tell," Lynx replied airily.

            The three of them walked up the walk to the front door of Kim's house. "Let's cut through. We can go out back while we still have light," she said, ushering them inside.

            "Hm, a sunset duel it is, then," Lynx replied.

            "Did someone say duel?" a man said, ducking around the corner of the hallway to the living room. Mr. Dr. Possible smiled when he saw Kim. "Now, honey, you haven't brought any arch foes home with you, have you?"

            "Of course not, Dad," she replied, jogging up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "You know they only come _uninvited."_

            "Righty-o," he agreed with a chuckle. He looked over her shoulder to the other two teens. "Hey-ho, Ronald. All's well in the Stoppable world I trust?"

            "Never been better, Doctor P," Ron said, flashing him an "OK" sign.

            "Glad to hear it. Oh, and who's the new face?" Dr. Possible said, his eyes roving to Lynx.

            "Lynx DeWard, sir," he replied politely, stepping forward. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Possible."

            Mr. Possible clasped his hand and shook it firmly. His face brightened in recognition halfway through the first shake. "Ah, you must be Redding's oldest son. Kim's mentioned you, and your father can't stop talking about you."

            Lynx smiled, somewhat nervously. "I would guess he hasn't stopped talking about much of anything, actually."

            Dr. Possible chuckled heartily. "He's certainly – er – _energetic_," he agreed, releasing Lynx's hand. "Your father's a brilliant man, and we're glad to have him on the team."

            "Dear, who're you – oh!" Mrs. Dr. Possible just then came into the living room. She smiled pleasantly. "You must be Lynx," she said, walking up to greet him.

            He nodded and smiled timidly. "Dr. Possible," he said, shaking her hand lightly.

            "Well, Kimmy," Mr. Possible said to his daughter. "I'm glad you've finally decided to bring him around to meet us. Why, I remember when you met Ronald, you could hardly stand to wait three seconds to introduce us."

            "Dad," Kim said, sounding slightly embarrassed, as all teenagers do when their parents are saying anything about them in front of their friends. "That was back in pre-school."

            "Well, I don't see why this should be any different," Mr. Possible replied. "After all, we already know and work with his parents, so why beat around the bush with their son?"

            Lynx's smile was growing increasingly nervous.

            "Dear, no need to talk about him like he isn't right here," Mrs. Possible chided her husband gently. She turned to Lynx. "It's always a pleasure to meet one of Kim's new friends."

            "Hold on," a new voice called from behind Lynx.

            "New friend?" a second, identical voice said.

            "Fresh meat?" the first voice asked.

            Lynx turned around and looked down. Jim and Tim were standing there, appraising him with looks that were almost predatory.

            "Ah, these two I've heard a lot about," Lynx said.

            "And what've you heard?"

            "If it's about us causing trouble,"

            "Or wrecking our sister's room,"

            "Or anything dangerously experimental,"

            "For the record, it wasn't us,"

            "But, between us, it was probably still true."

            Ron was backing away fearfully; he was more than a little freaked out when the twins started finishing each others sentences, especially in long, drawn-out thoughts. However, Lynx's eyes tracked back and forth, following their conversation easily. He gave them a lopsided grin.

            "Oh, I'm sure it's true," Lynx began.

            "Along with a ton of other things," Kim continued.

            "That nobody has found out about yet," finished Lynx.

            The twins gaped back and forth at them. "Hey!" Jim said. "You two didn't get some telepathic uplink from Wade, did you?"

            "Maybe we did," Kim said, striding up next to Lynx and crossing her arms.

            "Maybe we didn't," added Lynx, crossing his own arms and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

            Jim and Tim shared a look, then in the blink of an eye ran off back into the house. As soon as they were out of earshot, Lynx and Kim burst out laughing and gave each other a high-five.

            Ron was staring at his two friends apprehensively, inching backwards. "Oh no! The two of you have contracted twin-talkie-thingy!" he said, pointing at them with a panicking finger.

            "Relax, Ron," Kim said, trying to catch her breath between laughs. "We scripted that out."

            "I can hardly believe it," Lynx said, snickering. "Kim, you had them down almost word-for-word."

            The doctors Possible shared a look and smiled. They had never seen the twins handled so cleverly; the first thought that came to their minds, of course, was _babysitters_.

            Ron calmed down, but was still looking at Kim and Lynx with vague suspicion, as if expecting them to turn into aliens or robots or – worst of all – bona fide twins, right then and there. "Yeah, well, so long as you don't make that a habit," he said. "The finishing each other's sentences thing freaks me out now more than monkeys do."

            "Don't worry, Ron, no psychic links here," Kim told him. "Come on, we won't have light much longer; let's head out back."

            "Be careful, Kimmy," Mr. Possible said as they walked by. "I don't want my coworker's son too badly battered; and he _is_ your friend, after all."

            "No worries, Dad," she assured him, smiling over her shoulder.

            When they had left, Mr. Possible turned to his wife, speaking quietly. "Though if that Lynx boy is half as good as his father says, it might be him I should have warned. He had better be careful; that's my daughter he's going to spar with," he said protectively.

            "Don't worry," she whispered back, patting him on the shoulder, "And come on," she tugged his elbow. "You've gotten to see Kimmy in action before; I don't want to miss this."

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            The Possible's back yard was awash in the sunset's red-orange glow as the three teenagers stepped back outside. Kim and Lynx started stretching briskly and loosening up.

            "So," Ron said, rubbing his hands together. "The two of you going to go at it GWA-style? Need a refer-aahh!!" he ducked as a leg swept through the air where his head had been. Kim held up an arm, catching and blocking the blow easily.

            "Daylight's wasting," Lynx said, smiling as he recoiled his leg.

            "My thoughts exactly," Kim replied, following her words with a lunging fist straight at Lynx.

            He sidestepped easily, but even as he moved he had to bring up his arms to block the lightning-fast series of strikes that followed. He batted every punch and slash, his eyes darting around to track every blow. He was backing up slowly, step by step, until he reached the end of the back porch. As soon as his foot sensed the edge of the wood deck, he jumped lightly backwards to the grass. The instant his feet hit the ground, he rolled forwards, and even still barely avoided Kim's flying kick. He pivoted on his knee, turning just in time to block a roundhouse kick over his head, giving Kim's leg a subtle push in the process. The action set her a fraction off-balance, causing her to wobble just long enough for Lynx to wade in with his own rapid-fire fists.

            Ron was watching them from the deck, his eyes as wide as saucers, his mouth open, and one cheek twitching slightly. Rufus, perched on his shoulder, had his pink jaw hanging nearly down to his feet. Ron had seen Kim fight Shego dozens of times; he'd seen her take on Monkey Fist and legions of burly henchmen; he'd seen her tackle giant robots like they were toy dolls. But none of that could have possibly prepared him for what he was watching now. It was a blur of untraceable motion, a display of unbelievable speed. It was like watching a dance, with Kim and Lynx moving so quickly that they often seemed like one person, their offensives exchanging back and forth so rapidly that their limbs blurred with movement as to seem almost intertwined. They looked like they were tangled into a knot and sliced into a half-dozen independent pieces all at once.

            And they were both smiling.

            Lynx ducked under a sideways club from Kim's right arm, punching out with his own right hand, only to have it caught by the wrist six inches short of its target. At the same instant, his left hand snapped up and caught her right wrist, which had reversed direction back down towards his neck as soon as he had ducked the initial blow. They froze, each locking and locked unblinkingly.

            Without a word or even a perceptible motion, the silent appraisal ended. Kim's right arm twisted, breaking the hold and latching onto the hand that had held it captive a tenth of a second earlier. Lynx's right wrist wrenched and reversed as well; in the same blink of an eye, their locks and locked had inverted. Another split-second of observation, and Lynx shot to his feet, pivoting on his left heel. Kim pirouetted as well, their motions united as well as any dance pair's performance of the same move. They stopped their spins and broke the wristlocks in one fluid movement, each taking a step backwards and allowing time for a shared smile.

            "Rufus, pinch me," Ron said weakly. The mole rat, his eyes never leaving Kim and Lynx, reached up to tweak Ron's cheek. The boy winced. "Thanks." He reached his own hand up, and gently pinched Rufus' cheek. The mole rat squeaked a "thanks" of its own.

            Lynx took a lightning-fast step forward, striking towards Kim with a flat palm. She ducked, turned and grabbed the attacking appendage all at once, and with a sudden heave, hauled Lynx straight over her shoulder. Even as he flipped over her head, orbiting above her as she held his wrist, he snaked within the lock to grab onto her wrist as well. He somehow landed right on his feet, carrying the momentum of his flight and transferring it straight into an overhead throw of his own. Now Kim tumbled over Lynx, but at the apex, she broke the wristlock and maneuvered into a graceful double frontflip, landing a dozen feet away as steadily as if she'd dismounted a set of parallel bars.

            "Whoa!" an astounded voice breathed from Ron's right.

            "You can say that again," an identical and equally awestruck voice said from his left.

            "Using a bit of my favorite style against me, eh?" Lynx asked.

            "Maybe," Kim replied. "My only style is whatever works, when it works."

            Lynx's smile widened. "Like I said, my favorite style."

            "You're faster than when you fought Shego," Kim observed.

            "So are you."

            Now Kim's smile widened. "A good challenge always brings out the best in me."

            Lynx sprinted forward, feinting a high punch and dropping down to try and sweep her off her feet. But instead of jumping the maneuver, she dug her foot into the soft grass. Lynx's leg clacked shin-to-shin against hers, stopping dead. Kim swung around with her other leg, forcing Lynx to bend over backwards to avoid it, but with one leg extended and the other bent under him, he put himself in a poor position. Kim only had to land a single, quick punch, knocking her knuckles lightly into the point of Lynx's bent leg just below the kneecap. The reflex point spasmed the leg, leaving Lynx to land ungracefully on his behind. He tried to roll away, but he felt the knife edge of Kim's palm placed on his neck before he could even move. He held up his hands, palms open.

            Kim stood up and offered him a hand. He took it, rising back to his feet. "Best two out of three?" he asked.

            "Of course," Kim replied. She snapped a low punch towards his midsection, which he bowed to avoid. Even sucking in his gut, the quick strike nearly landed.

            Lynx batted the arm away with his right hand, and swung his left in towards her shoulder. She reached up, grabbed him around the wrist, then twisted and pulled downwards, locking his left arm against her body in the crook of her right arm. Thinking quickly and taking a page from her book, Lynx jerked his left knee upwards, catching her on the elbow. He pulled his arm free after hitting the pressure point, spinning to deliver a roundhouse kick. She one-upped his copycat counter, pirating the move Lynx had used against Shego: Kim grabbed his leg by the ankle, pushing it her head, down to the ground, then throwing it upwards. Lynx performed a feat of dexterous reaction, keeping the momentum of her toss controlled into a triple-axel spin and a landing on his feet.

            He didn't have time to congratulate himself, however, as Kim charged straight back in, distracting him with a barrage of punches and keeping him on his heels. She fought him all the way to the edge of the deck. He stopped backing up when he felt the obstacle behind him, his arms moving like hummingbird wings just to keep her from landing a strike. That was when she thrust her head forward, as though to headbutt him, a surprising move for a friendly spar. The shock slowed his wits just enough, and when he jerked his head back to avoid, stars exploded in front of his eyes when the back of his head nailed the edge of the deck railing. He stumbled forward, blinking and looked around, frantically trying to clear his head as seconds ticked past.

            Instinct saved him, as he turned and looked up just as Kim jumped at him from the railing he'd just smacked his head on. She dropped towards him for a flying kick, one leg extended, the other bent inwards. He hadn't been far from the rail, so her trajectory was a high arc, dropping more down to him than at him. He leaned back, giving himself precious inches, and swung his left arm, catching her right on the calf of her outstretched leg. The sweeping blow knocked her ninety degrees through a circle in midair, and she landed with an ungainly thud, right on her back.

            She froze as she felt the edge of his hand against the bottom of her chin.

            "No way," Tim breathed.

            "Way," Jim whispered.

            Ron just squeaked indistinctly from the back of his throat.

            It was Lynx's turn to offer a hand up, and Kim's turn to accept. They were both still smiling; competitively, confidently, but most of all respectfully, their grins a picture of the thrill of friendly challenge.

            "If that wasn't my daughter out there, this might be entertaining," Mr. Possible commented quietly. Despite his words, his voice still betrayed a bit of excitement.

            "You worry too much, dear," Mrs. Possible whispered back. The two of them were standing at the patio door, backlit by the house, watching the proceedings in the growing dimness outside. "Just look at her smile! Besides, she's faced things a lot more dangerous than this. Well," she trailed off thoughtfully, then hummed a quick laugh and shrugged.

            Mr. Possible looked at his wife, an eyebrow raised. "Now what was _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked, a little suspiciously.

            "Oh, nothing," Mrs. Possible replied. She patted her husband's arm. "Just enjoy the show, dear. It's certainly better than wrestling."

            Out on the grass, Kim and Lynx were circling one another slowly, gauging each other with fixed stares. Step by sideways step, one light footfall after another, they maintained their distance. The next to fall would be the last, and they were now embedded in their own world; living by only what their senses relayed to them, vacant of everything save the other person and their every movement, breath, and blink. 

            Walking the halls of Middleton High School, each could have been overlooked easily in their own right, her falling victim to the stereotypes of a uniform and a pair of pom-poms, and him to an unassuming quiescence. But at the moment, they weren't the same people who walked the halls. Kim Possible; mild-mannered, modest, and kind beyond compare, didn't want to lose. Lynx DeWard; solemn, polite, and thoughtful, didn't want to lose. Here and now, they were united by the unselfish desires of overcoming the challenge of each other.

            There was one other thought they undoubtedly shared: If there was one person they _did_ have to lose to, it wouldn't be so bad the next day if it was the person they were looking at just then.

            She moved first, borrowing from her repertoire of cheerleading moves, taking two quick steps and leaping forward into a handstand. She coiled and shot like a spring, aiming to drive both feet right into Lynx's chest. He sidestepped easily, reaching up and slipping one arm under hers as she flew past and latching on with an elbow under her shoulder. He spun to dispel Kim's momentum, then as soon as her feet were back on the ground, quickly locked her other arm in similar fashion. With a twist at his elbows, he could have locked her in a full Nelson, but her catlike quickness wasn't nearly so easily bested. She slipped one leg back and hooked it behind his, slamming it forward into the back of his knee and throwing all her – admittedly slight – weight backwards at the same time. Lynx was no gorilla-like henchman, though, and her force was just enough to tip his balance. He fell backwards, and she landed on top of him, knocking out his breath with a wheeze. 

            She rolled off, and, free of her weight, Lynx rolled away, gasping for air. He struggled to one knee only jump backwards as soon as he reached it, his movements slightly sluggish as he tried to get a decent breath. Kim landed at the spot he'd just vacated and quickly gave chase, driving him back towards the house. He gave ground rapidly, trading space for time and air, but the backyard was no football field, and he probably would have needed at least that much room to buy back enough momentum to stop Kim Possible.

            Lynx stopped as he felt the wall of the Possible home at his back, frantically slapping away Kim's punches and chops. She moved to headbutt him again, and remembering the first fall and the painful introduction to the patio rail, Lynx bent to the side instead of backwards. However, for that fraction of a second as his brain remembered the first move and corrected his instincts to counter, he failed to notice the sweeping kick that caught him right in the ankles.

            With a "whoa!" of surprise when he found his feet were quite abruptly no longer beneath him, Lynx fell right onto his side. Pinned against the wall, there was no escape, and with the slow-motion perception of inevitability, he watched every millisecond of Kim's downwards chop. To his credit, he did not flinch even as she stopped her hand a hairsbreadth from his neck. Instead, he smiled.

            Tim and Jim immediately started whistling, hooting, and cheering wildly, jumping up and down with their typical reckless abandon. Kim glanced over, then just as quickly looked away to offer Lynx a hand up. She could feel herself blushing; it had been easy not to notice an audience while she was fighting, and she found herself flattered; a slightly odd sentiment from a girl who saved the world in her spare time.

            Lynx's smile had turned more than a little sheepish as well as he brushed himself off, studiously avoiding looking up at the twins, who were now chanting "Re-match! Re-match!"

            "That was awesome!" Jim proclaimed, as Kim walked back up onto the porch.

            "Totally extreme!" exclaimed Tim, looking at Kim and Lynx with obvious admiration.

            "We can do a lot of things, but that's not one of them," Jim admitted.

            "Yet," Tim amended, a small bit of mischievous fervor lighting his eyes.

            "C'mon, tweebs, show's over," Kim said, ushering them towards the door.

            "Awww," they chorused, looking up at their sister pleadingly, bottom lips quivering.

            She smiled and shook a finger at them. "Hey, that's my trademark move, no way you'll get it to work on me. Their looks shifted to Lynx, who held up his hands and couldn't help but laugh.

            "Hey, sorry guys, but you can't really sell it," he chuckled.

            "Rats," the twins echoed, their puppy-dog-pouts disappearing in the blink of an eye.

            "Come on, boys, better hurry or you'll miss 'Stuff on Fire'," Mr. Possible called. The twins bolted inside like a pair of trained hounds; they had taken a disconcerting liking to the show after it had replaced Adrena Lynn.

            "Come on, Ron, show's over," Kim said, reaching up and pushing his gaping jaw shut as she walked past. The blonde teen blinked in amazement.

            "Man, KP, how do Shego or any of the other villains stand a chance against you?" Ron gasped as he followed Kim and Lynx back inside.

            "They don't," she replied, smiling at him over her shoulder. "That's kind of the idea."

*A/N* - Gulp. Okay, being a bit over-descriptive is a habit I fall into more often than is healthy for a writer. When you start laying out every tiny detail of an action sequence, many things can happen; most of them bad. You can bore your audience (if this sin were any more cardinal it'd qualify to be a state bird). You can similarly lose them by removing their freedom of imaginative license (Which is the art of being just vague enough and trusting your readers to see what they want to see while still seeing what _you_ want them to see. Go ahead, re-read that sentence, I had to.). You can contrast their mind's-eye-view (similar to number two… and even when writing about an already visualized entertainment, no two people imagine the same way). Or, the lone shimmering point of potential, you can exert the control to immerse them in every sensation, nuance, and movement so that they actually forget where they are.

The lattermost is a fleeting, elusive goal, and slightly risky for its redundancy, because people often find that level of immersion naturally with a good story (the graveyard scene of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ comes to mind, for one). Long story short (if I haven't already lost you) going gung-ho on details is still something I try from time to time, and Lynx and Kim's spar was one of those times. I could just see every tiny speck of detail in my mind, right down to how it would be animated in the series, and couldn't help myself. If any of you didn't like it, considering it was something of a stylistic departure from the rest of the fic, I apologize. But this is the beauty of fanfiction; it's fair game for test-runs and wacky experiments, all of which help you establish your identity as a writer, with help and feedback from all of you that contribute reviews.

On that note, (Dr. Drakken voice on) a shout out to all my peeps in da hood (Dr. Drakken voice off): superviolist, Meow, jennifer, Mistress of Balmoral, Bratty, WackyD, Yamal, ShegoWannabe, koolkame, Miss Cheetah, MagRowan and AOM().


	7. Chapter Seven: Halftime Showoff

**                                                                                  Chapter Seven - Halftime Showoff**

            The roar of the crowd drowned out the announcer's words, but the scoreboard said all anyone needed to know. Middleton had come out on fire for the entire first half, shredding the nets with every shot. Some of the cheerleaders were slouching and panting in between cheers, they were getting so exhausted from all the jumping up and down they had to do with every Mad Dogs basket. The ovation peaked as the players headed to their locker rooms, then slowly died away as most of the spectators decided to make a break for the concession stands.

            "Thanks for the great seat, Dr. Possible," Lynx said, when the noise had finally gone down enough to be heard.

            "No problemo," Mr. Possible replied. "We've always had an extra season ticket on hand."

            "Oh? Why's that?" Lynx asked curiously.

            Mr. Possible sighed and looked, somewhat wistfully, down towards the student seating section, where the cheerleaders were getting ready for their halftime performance. "Old habit," he said simply.

            "Kim always went with us to basketball games," Mrs. Possible explained. "And before she did cheerleading, she never liked to sit with the students, either."

            Lynx nodded slowly. Glancing to his left, he saw two empty seats, and his eyebrow quirked. He turned back to Mrs. Possible. "Where did Jim and Tim go?"

            She glanced around him, then shrugged. "They usually go for some popcorn at halftime. They'll be back."

            "Unless they try and rewire the popcorn maker, like they did one time last year," Mr. Possible said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

            "Oh, don't worry, dear," Mrs. Possible said. "I'm sure the workers won't let them behind the counter again."

            Lynx looked down when he felt a small tug on his shoulder to see Rufus clambering up. He was aiming for a better view of the imminent halftime show, featuring the one and only Middleton Mad Dog. The mole rat was grinning anxiously, his skinny pink tail wagging like a dog's.

            Music began pumping over the PA system as the cheerleaders strutted out, leaping, flipping, and waving their pom-poms. On cue, the lights went out, replaced quickly with long white beams of spotlights, which tracked towards the far gym entrance.

            "Give it up for _your _Middleton_ Mad Dog!_" the announcer cried.

            The doors burst open and a giant bulldog – or at least the head of one – bounded out, howling and foaming at the mouth. Lynx couldn't help but smile and clap with the rest of the crowd, while Rufus bounced around excitedly on his shoulder, making tiny, squeaking imitations of Ron's own imitation howling and barking. It was a bit scary, sometimes, how much those two took after one another.

            The Mad Dog ran over and covered one of the referees in a hail of banana cream, drawing even louder cheers and laughs, and an indignant stare from the poor official. He obviously hadn't been to a Middleton basketball game before, or else he'd have known that anyone in black-and-white stripes had best be far out of sight come halftime.

            Once Ron's antics and the cheerleaders' performance was over, the lights returned to normal. Lynx was just about to sit back down when a new voice came over the PA.

            "Beware, Middleton! Your time has come!" a raspy, mechanical-sounding voice shouted. It sounded like something that you would hear out of a computer in a science fiction movie. A quick look courtside showed the regular announcer staring at his microphone in confusion. "Now you must face the wrath of… Dual Strike!"

            Sudden movement at the edge of his sight drew Lynx's eyes to the ceiling, which was a maze of rafters and metal walkways crisscrossing around and over the scoreboard hanging over center-court. At first he couldn't see anything clearly in the dim jumble, but with every hint of motion his eyes zeroed in closer until he finally had them: two figures darting from rail to rail rapidly.

            Shocked gasps and fingers pointed on high quickly began springing up throughout the arena. "That's right!" the robotic voice bellowed over the speakers once more. "We're sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled basketball game… but this programming has been preempted by pandemonium!" The panic that followed as the crowd scrambled towards the exits might have been dangerous if more people were still inside, but luckily the stadium was only about half full.

            "Sheesh," Lynx grumbled sourly, frowning as he tracked the two shadowy figures through the rafters. "Whoever these guys are, they've sure got the cheesy villain threats down."

            "We'd better get out of here, dear," said Mr. Possible. "I think the situation is in good hands," he added, looking down at the court. Lynx followed his gaze and saw Kim and Ron, both standing at the base of the bleachers of the student section, watching the ceiling closely. At least Ron looked like he was watching; the Mad Dog mask was still on.

            "No worries, Doctors P," Lynx said to the two adults, giving them a quick wave. He bounded down the bleachers by threes, then dashed across the court to Kim and Ron.

            "Just what we need, more super villains," Kim was saying as Lynx skidded to a halt next to she and Ron. "I'd better see if Wade can get us any info about these guys," she continued, turning away from the ceiling to begin rummaging through her duffel bag, which was lying by the base of the seats. Lynx looked down as he heard the ruffling become more frantic.

            "Where is it?" Kim asked at last, scratching her head, looking around at the piles of clothes and other items tossed and strewn about her.

            The Mad Dog turned around, and Ron's voice, slightly muffled, barked, "What do you mean?"

            "The Kimmunicator's not here!" Kim said, looking slightly panicked.

            "Don't worry, we'll find it," Lynx said quickly, drawing back the cuff of his left sleeve. "And this gives me a chance to try out the 'welcome to the team' gift Wade mailed me."

            "You've got a Kimmunicator?" Kim asked, brightening hopefully.

            "Not exactly," Lynx replied.

            "A Lynxunnicator?" Ron asked. The other two looked at him oddly.

            "What?" the bulldog asked. "If I had one, I'd call it the Ronnunicator."

            Kim raised an eyebrow. "So not. Why would you get a Kimmunicator?"

            "Well, it's just a _thought_," he said, his miffed tone evident even through the mask. "I mean, what if I had to move to Norway or something and the only way to keep in touch would be to give me one?"

            Kim blinked. "I'm not sure if I'm feeling déjà vu, the after-effects of how dumb 'Ronnunicator' sounds, or both," she said, smirking to take the sting out of the words. The Mad Dog put its hands on its hips.

            "Uh, back to the present," Lynx interrupted. "It doesn't matter anyway," he said, punching at a few buttons on his wristwatch. "This is the UpLynx."

            "Now _that_ works," Kim said, pointing at the watch and looking aside to Ron. The Mad Dog only huffed and crossed its arms.

            A soft electronic whistle came from the watch, and Kim and Ron moved to see. A very small Wade had appeared on the face. "Oh, hey Lynx," he greeted. "How's the game?"

            "The halftime entertainment has been re-scheduled," he reported. Kim grabbed his wrist, pulling Lynx's forearm towards her face.

            "Wade," she said briskly, "we've got what looks like a pair of intruders in the rafters and over the PA system. They're calling themselves Dual Strike. Any info?"

            The young genius' fingers flew over his keyboard, and his eyes scanned the screen rapidly. After a long moment, he turned back and shrugged. "I'm not getting anything," he reported.

            "Oh, you will hear plenty of us soon enough!" the metallic voice returned from the PA system. "Are you going to hide on the ground all day, Kim Possible?" it taunted.

            Kim scowled, dropped Lynx's wrist, and bent back to her duffel bag. She stood up again, holding her grappling gun. "Glad this is still here," she said, smiling as she took aim at the ceiling. With a bang, the hook shot out and quickly wrapped around a girder. The cord wound in, drawing Kim up to the ceiling.

            From the UpLynx, the sound of Wade gasping could be heard. "I'll get right back to you guys!" he said. Almost before Ron and Lynx could look, his image had blinked off.

            "Err– Yeah…" Lynx stammered, pushing his sleeve back down. "So, I don't suppose you have _your_ grappling gun?" he asked Ron.

            "You're kidding, right?" Ron's muffled voice replied.

            Lynx shrugged. "It was worth a shot." His eyes searched the gym for a few seconds. An odd look passed over his face. "Stay here in case they come down," he told Ron, and then ran off.

            "Well, it's better than being the distraction," the Mad Dog observed with a shrug.

                                                                                                                                -- --- --

            Kim landed lightly on a walkway and searched for any sign of the two intruders. The ceiling was dimly lit, especially right above the jumbotron, with plenty of shadows to hide in. But that didn't stop Kim Possible for long. "Gotcha," she whispered, her keen emerald eyes focusing on a crouching shape four girders over. She leapt nimbly from walkway to bar to bar, navigating the rafters as easily as a child in a jungle gym. Before she got close, however, the anonymous figure leapt away in a blur.

            "Wha—?" she gasped, looking around frantically.

            "You won't catch Dual Strike so easily!" the PA system bellowed, the robotic taunt echoing through the empty gym.

            "And you won't fool Kim Possible so easily," Kim whispered, already re-spotting the dark figure. Or was it the second one? It didn't matter. She moved towards it as fast as she dared through the treacherous maze.

            Once again, the figure evaded her before she could even get close. She grumbled in frustration, but then spotted the intruder again. This time she was ready, and she maneuvered her approach to trap the dark stranger in a corner. She closed in quickly, trying to cut off any chance of escape.

            It almost worked. Just before she reached them, the stranger leapt cat-like from its beam, lunging for the nearest walkway. It was the only way out, but it was too far all the same. The figure's hands scrabbled at the edge of the railing, then he slipped and plummeted towards the gym floor. Kim looked over her girder, watching with eyes widened in surprise as the stranger landed easily on the wooden floor fifty feet below. "No way," she breathed.

            Ron was barely a dozen steps away from where the stranger landed. He whirled about and gasped. The intruder was dressed all in black from head to toe, wrapped with a tunic and mask that showed no skin at all.

            "Ahh!" Ron screamed, pointing frantically. "Evil mini-ninja!"

            The figure was indeed extremely short, barely four feet tall, and he certainly looked the part of the ninja.

            "Uh, Lynx," the Mad Dog called, observing the ninja warily. "You told me to stay here in case they came down, but…" he gulped. "What exactly am I supposed to do now that he's down here?!" Ron shouted in a panic.

            The ninja turned to face the bulldog, then went through a dizzying series of jumps, flips, and hand maneuvers. He stopped, and the voice returned over the PA. "Now, Ron Stoppable, face the wrath of Dual Strike T!" He leapt, flying straight towards Ron.

            Ron yelled and ducked for cover. After a few seconds of huddling on the floor in a ball, he risked a glance up. He looked around and saw the ninja, hands on his hips, and shaking with an oddly familiar laugh. Belatedly, the robotic voice's booming evil laughter echoed through the gym.

            With a blur of movement, the second ninja jumped down from the rafters to land soundlessly beside the first. He pointed at Ron, who squeaked and huddled into a tighter ball.

            "Now contend with Dual Strike J!" the voice roared. "We will take care of you before moving on to Kim! Er– Kim _Possible!"_

            With a whir of rappelling cord, Kim dropped down beside Ron, lowering herself with the grappling gun. "You're not going to be taking care of much of anything," Kim said sternly. Not "You're going down, Drakken" sternly, more like…

            "You are really going to regret this, tweebs!" she hissed dangerously.

            The ninjas looked at one another, then dropped into ready stances.

            "Don't be so sure, Kim Possib-ahh!!" the robotic voice crackled, like a jostled microphone.

            "Your parents aren't going to like this," the voice continued.

            "No! C'mon, you can't!" it pleaded metallically.

            Kim couldn't hold back a laugh as the voice seemed to argue with itself.

            There was a final, loud squeal and thump from the PA system, followed by a much softer clack from across the gym as one of the maintenance closets opened. Out strode Lynx, tugging the panicked-looking duo of Jim and Tim by their collars. He stopped next to Kim and Ron, dropping the twins and looking down at each of them grimly.

            "I think this is yours," he said, handing the Kimmunicator to its rightful owner. Kim took it, frowning darkly, and punched one of the buttons. With a quick blur, the two ninjas disappeared. She went on to tap the small microphone receiver embedded in the device, which caused a loud popping over the PA. Another button was pushed, and the sound cut off. Kim put her hands on her hips and glowered at the twins.

            They smiled nervously at her.

            "Care to rehearse your excuses before Mom and Dad get back?" she asked, tapping a foot on the hardwood court.

            "Uh, well," Tim began, but he was interrupted as the doors to the gym swung open. Some of the crowd was returning; specifically, the last two people Jim and Tim probably wanted to see at that moment.

            The Doctors Possible stalked towards the small group with fire in their eyes, which were fixed unblinkingly on the two pre-teen transients still secured by Lynx. Which was lucky, as a quick heft kept their sneakers swiping ineffectively at ground too far below to carry them away.

            Mr. Possible was sputtering, his fists shaking like twin earthquakes at his side. "You… never… couldn't… grounded… thirtieth birthday!"

            Mrs. Possible seemed beyond words. She just glared at the boys with a look that would turn Shego from green-white to just plain white, and pointed a quivering finger at the door.

            Jim and Tim gave unintelligible little squeaks and scampered meekly towards the exit, their parents hot on their heels.

            Kim watched them go for a moment, then buried her face in a hand. "If anyone ever finds out about this…" she mumbled helplessly.

            "It could be worse, KP," Ron reported as he pulled off the Mad Dog mask. "At least the gym is still in one piece."

            Kim could only mutter despondently in reply for a long moment. She perked up, though, pulling out the Kimmunicator. She moved to punch the call button just as the four-tone chime sounded from the device. She paused, blinked, then shrugged and hit the button. "Go, Wade."

            "Good, you got the Kimmunicator back," he said. "You must have found whoever was using it to hack into the PA system with modified voice output and also broadcast with the old holo-program."

            "Yeah, and you'll _never_ guess who," Kim said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

            "Jim and Tim," he said matter-of-factly. "I noticed that even though you had called over the UpLynx, the Kimmunicator was in use, but Lynx got to the twins before I even had a chance to disable them."

            "Thanks, Wade," Kim said. She looked up. The crowd was hesitantly beginning to return to the gym, looking around nervously as they made their ways back to the seats. "We'd better calm things down here. Talk to you later." Wade's image disappeared.

            Just then, the buzzer sounded loud and long over the PA, causing the three teens to jump. The halftime clock had been left running when the scoreboard operator had abandoned his post with the rest of the fleeing crowd.

            "Well, at least the game isn't behind schedule," Ron said brightly.

*A/N* - Another one of those "tweener" chapters that could have been longer, but I'm going to go ahead and send out to get something new posted. Well, it's a little different from the cutoff I made at chapter five, because the second part of this act is a shift in tone and mood, so this change probably makes more sense than keeping the chapter whole. 

In fact, come to think of it, I'm not sure if I'll be able to stick to my mental outline, because I don't want to give folks the wrong impression about this fic. You see, I don't write romance… but I _do_ write relationships. The way characters interact with one another is one of the biggest factors that draws me to writing. The sticking point is that what I end up with often tries to straddle the border of drama and quasi-fluff, and I usually seem to fall off the fence and land flat on my face on one side or the other. That's what killed my first Harry Potter fic (since then deleted from FF.net). My story turned into something DNAmy might think of; a weird conglomeration of platonic yet heavily sentimental interactions. Trying to explain why I do that (a personal character trait I've long analyzed) would be like trying to explain why you see something in a Rorschach inkblot, so I'll spare you all more rambling. The biggest challenge to pulling it off will probably be keeping the Kim Possible atmosphere intact, which is my first and foremost priority.

On a brighter note, _Return of the King was one heckuva flick. "That still only counts as one", indeed._


	8. Chapter Eight: Balance of Power

**                                                                                   Chapter Eight - Balance of Power**

            "We'll be back in a minute," Kim's parents had said. Well, a minute was all the tweebs had needed to start World War III.

            If Kim had thought her brothers might be deterred a little bit by the heavy dose of grounding they'd received after their antics at the basketball game – which she had – she was dead wrong. With a frustrated growl, she ducked under another flyby from one of the dozen or so radio-controlled aircraft now buzzing through the house. From within the confines of their room, the tweebs had launched a whole new brand of troublemaking… though it had been conveniently timed for just after her parents had left to run some errands.

            A cloud of miniature jets assaulted her wherever she went, and had even kept her corralled away from her brothers' room for the time being. Kim Possible could do anything, certainly… but not necessarily as quickly as she liked. "When I get my hands on you two…" she grumbled for the umpteenth time as a helicopter nearly gave her an unwanted haircut. She took cover under the kitchen table to try and think.

            Her plotting was quickly interrupted by the doorbell. "Just what I need," she muttered. Dashing out at a sprint, she headed for the front door. A reflexive chop managed to down one of her brothers' squadron of annoyances, but she didn't waste time celebrating the small victory.

            When she reached the front door she pulled it open, and without even taking the time to register who was on the other side, reached out and yanked them inside, slamming the door shut before any of the tweebs' air force could escape. Throwing her back against the door and slumping down, panting, Kim could only hope she hadn't given some Jehovah's Witness a brute-force welcome.

            "Well, good morning to you, too," Lynx said, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling wryly. He had managed to roll to his side to avoid getting a rather rough introduction to the wall.

            Kim gasped and flushed in embarrassment, covering her mouth with a hand. Part of her had expected it to be Ron at the door, and even some strange solicitor would have been better than this. It was only the second time Lynx had been to her house, after all.

            "Sorry about that," she apologized in a rush. Any further explanation was cut off by the uncomfortably low pass of a one-hundredth scale 747.

            "Well, that sure explains a lot," Lynx said, watching the plane pass around the corner and turning back to regard Kim with a bemused look.

            "Yeah," she agreed. "You caught the tweebs in an awfully good mood last time you were here."

            "Maybe, but after what we saw at the basketball game, I can't say I'm completely surprised." He rose to his feet, only to be forced to sidestep a space shuttle.

            "They could have at least given me a minute to get dressed," Kim said sourly, frowning at a biplane as it puttered slowly overhead.

            Looking at her instead of the aircraft, Lynx blinked, as if he hadn't really seen her until just then. (With a miniaturized Smithsonian exhibit traveling through the house, it wasn't exactly odd.) Kim was still dressed in her morning clothes: barefoot in baggy sky-blue sweatpants and her favorite purple tank top with the green heart.

            "Er, I didn't mean to come by at a bad time," Lynx said, his ears reddening slightly.

            "Hm? Oh, don't worry, the tweebs holding an air show is positively quiet by our standards," Kim said, not quite accurate in her guess of his meaning. "C'mon," she said, not waiting for a reply. She grabbed his wrist and tugged him with her, leading them towards the pull-down stairs to her room. "Let's get somewhere safe before the tweebs start loading these things with miniature missiles."

            When they were in Kim's room, she closed the trap door behind them, relieved that none of Jim and Tim's air force had managed to follow them up. She flopped down onto her bed with a heavy sigh.

            Lynx, meanwhile, was standing next to Kim's computer, possibly feeling even more awkward than he looked. He sat down on the edge of the desk, and was either giving the room an appraisal worthy of a health inspector, or simply trying to look everywhere but at Kim herself.

            "So, what're you here for?" she asked, before the silence could become noticeable.

            Looking intently out the window, he made to reply, but stopped, and gave a sniff of laughter. "I knew when I got here, but with such a… unique welcome, I'd almost forgotten."

            "Yeah, sorry about that," said Kim. "I figured it was Ron stopping by, like he always does. Of course, when I didn't hear the crash of breaking furniture after I tossed you inside… well," she shrugged, and laughed.

            Lynx smiled without looking at her. "So he hangs out here a lot?"

            "Yeah. He spends almost as much time here as he does at his house." She studied him closely, but he either didn't notice or was avoiding her gaze too skillfully. It was a coin toss on that count, so she decided to go ahead and flip. "Why do you ask?"

            He finally glanced over, but just as quickly looked away. "No reason, really," he said, just a bit too casually. "It was easy to tell when I first met you that the two of you are all but joined at the hip. In a good way." Lynx finally turned his face to her, wearing a wistful smile.

            Kim sat up on her bed, hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees. "You know, you don't live long with two troublemaking younger brothers and spend your spare time fighting crime without a keen sense of perception," she said, giving him a pointed look.

            His smile wavered, but he held her gaze. His twin forest-green eyes were locked on hers unblinkingly. He seemed to be gathering his resolve for something.

            "I'm not someone who's ever made friends easily," he began bluntly, and Kim realized she was being shown an unaccustomed level of trust from her new – and until now, carefully reticent – friend. "Even before we moved, I didn't have many people I spent time with. In fact, I've been here barely more than a week, and you… Ron too, perhaps… are the best friends I've ever had. To be honest, for a while after I realized it, I wasn't sure exactly what that meant."

            Now that he had finally started talking, it was Kim who suddenly felt like looking away. Lynx's gaze was just so intense all of the sudden. Surprisingly, she didn't feel uncomfortable, only a bit taken aback. If Ron had a serious side, Kim had never seen it (which meant Ron didn't have a serious side), so she was adapting to having a friend as austere as Lynx just as he was adapting to… _having_ a friend, apparently. They were both doing a bit of trailblazing at the moment, but it was not in either of them to back down from a challenge, once offered.

            "I could say something dramatic right now," Lynx went on, his words suddenly tempered with one of his lopsided smiles, "like 'I wanted to come here to thank you'. But it'd be as false as it was trite."

            "So why are you here?" Kim asked, honestly curious. "If it's not the drama, then what is it?"

            He studied her for a moment, and then spread his hands out in a shrug. "I was bored, and for the first time ever, I realized I might have someplace to go to _not_ be bored at."

            Silence reigned for a moment, then just as quickly disappeared in a burst of laughter from the both of them at the absurdity of it all. Thirty seconds ago, the room had been filled with air so thick it was as if the world was ending. But simplicity is the best remedy to tension, and what could be simpler than Lynx DeWard just wanting to hang out with a friend?

            Of course, Kim was quick to realize that it wasn't going to be like when Ron always came over. GWA reruns, hide-and-seek with a naked mole rat, and hourly trips to Bueno Nacho were not likely to be the order of the day. Until Ron himself showed up, of course.

            "So, did your little epiphany come with any suggestions?" Kim wondered.

            The smile he gave her was so positively devious, the sight of it set her heart racing like the thrill of a mission. "How about we pay a visit to Jim and Tim?"

                                                                                                                                 -- --- --

            It was only an hour or so later that the doctors Possible returned home, to find Kim and Lynx on the living room couch. It wasn't brain surgery to see the smiles they were holding back, nor did it require rocket science to notice the definitive flush in their faces from recent laughter. If they didn't know better, the two adults would have almost thought the teenagers had been up to something.

            "The twins didn't cause any trouble while we were out, did they?" Mrs. Possible asked as she hung up her coat.

            "No big, mom. They're just as grounded as when you left," Kim replied.

            "Well, maybe just a bit less," Lynx put in. Kim had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh.

            The doctors shared a look, but the house was still in one piece, so whatever had happened could wait… a little while.

            "So, Lynx, are you and your family getting settled in okay?" asked Mr. Possible.

           "Just fine, Dr. Possible," he said respectfully. Then he gave Kim a quick, mischievous glance, and continued, "You could say we've had a smooth landing here in Middleton."

            Their daughter had to clap a hand over her mouth to hide her smile.

            Mrs. Possible raised an eyebrow. "I'm going to go check on Jim and Tim," she said, a little warily. The two teens shared another look, but made no move to stop her.

            "Well, Lynx, I'm glad to hear you're getting used to our little piece of the world," Mr. Possible said conversationally. "It's a nice, quiet place to be… well, when Kimmie isn't out saving the world and the twins are asleep, that is." He took a seat in his armchair, eyeing the younger man appraisingly.

            "Even awake, Jim and Tim aren't too bad," he replied. "Well, nothing that can't be handled, at least."

            Mr. Possible chuckled. "Oh, after ten years, we're all out of illusions about keeping those two little balls of rocket fuel under control," he said as he unfolded the newspaper. "They're like a pair of supernovas; all you can do is watch and hope they burn out before they turn you into free-floating atoms in their catastrophic wake."

            Mrs. Possible reentered the living room just then. She was walking with a distracted air, looking quite perplexed.

            Her husband drooped an edge of the Science and Technology section when he heard her come back. "All quiet?" he asked.

            She could only look, head slightly tilted, at Kim and Lynx. "I'm almost afraid to ask…" she began hesitantly, "but what did you two do to them?" That got Mr. Possible's full attention, and he lowered the paper to his lap.

            Kim folded her arms and leaned back into the thick cushions of the couch. "It's surprising, really, just how much getting beaten at your own game takes out of you. Don't you think, Lynx?"

            "Yes, very surprising," he agreed, folding his arms and leaning back into the cushions.

            The doctors Possible shared a look that bordered on alarmed.

            "Dear, what's wrong with Jim and Tim?" Mr. Possible ventured cautiously.

            "They were both sitting quietly on their beds, hands in their laps," she replied, her voice split between awe and confusion. The two adults turned to look at the pair of teenagers, who were now examining the ceiling with an air of innocence.

           "Some tactics are best left in the hands of those that best employ them," Lynx said cryptically. "Beyond that? Well," he gestured to Kim, "she _can_ do anything, after all."

            "You know, I might have to change that one of these days," said Kim. "By now, it really ought to read '_We_ can do anything'."

            The doctors Possible still did not look satisfied. Their unspoken question hung in the air, until Kim looked at her parents, put on her most dazzling smile, and said, "My dear, sweet brothers have finally met their match. Just one more victory for Team Possible."

                                                                                                                                -- --- --

            "It is the single most critical component in my scheme for world domination!" Dr. Drakken proclaimed with utter conviction. "It is the item that will ensure our victory better than any common weapon ever could!"

            "And _why_ haven't we used it before then, hmm?" Shego wondered idly.

            Drakken was stopped short mid-triumphant rant. He blinked, and paused thoughtfully. "A valid question, Shego," he said at last. "But one to be answered at another time. 

            "Now, I must have total silence while performing this operation. A single sound from any of you," he said, looking around the room at the collection of servants, as well as the small army of henchman recently added to their lair's décor, "and that unlucky individual will have just volunteered to test my new torture chamber."

            "Ah, doc, the torture chamber doesn't get installed 'til Tuesday," Shego pointed out lazily.

            "Well, fine, _first_ they'll test my dungeon, _then_ the torture chamber!" Drakken corrected.

            "And the dungeon doesn't get built 'til Monday," she added, continuing to carve her nails without missing a beat.

            Dr. Drakken stamped a foot. "So maybe I'll just give them one of my harsh talking-tos, then!" he fumed.

            Shego paused her filing and looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. "And we all know how intimidating _those_ can be," she replied sarcastically. Syrup had never dripped so thickly.

            "And don't you forget it!" Drakken snapped back, oblivious all the same. "Now, where was I…? Oh, yes! A single sound from any of you, and the consequences will be severe indeed!" He clasped the all-important item he had waxed rhapsodic over in his left hand, and reached out with his right to punch a button on the nearby wall, which was set next to a single, bulbous cylinder. With a beep, a protracted hiss, and a cloud of steam, the covering plate of the cylinder opened to reveal its contents.

            "Now," Drakken whispered, biting his lip. He prepared to make the all-important final touch that would guarantee his victory. "All I have to do is—"

            "Doc, _what did I tell you about clones_?!" Shego exclaimed. Whatever was inside the cylinder had drawn her attention fully away from her nail file.

            Drakken stopped his movement and wheeled on her, his nostrils flaring. "Silence, Shego! You could have ruined our entire operation! If not for your years of loyal service as my evil sidekick—"

            "Which you're in danger of losing permanently if you don't explain this in about three seconds, blue boy!" she snarled, a feral sneer on her face.

            Drakken gulped, with a pointed glance at the wicked-looking clawed gauntlets clenching and unclenching methodically at his companion's sides. "Now, Shego, calm down! This is _not_ a clone! It's not even a syntho-chemical duplicate," he explained quickly as she took a menacing step towards him. "I only borrowed your appearance for the effect!"

            She stopped short in her advance. "The effect?" Shego repeated, in a tone that implied that Drakken's next words would either sufficiently calm her, or entice her to see how quickly she could make him run away.

            "Of, course, Shego!" He turned and spread an arm, showman-like, to indicate the contents of the cylinder. The wall-mounted container held a single occupant: a woman, identical to Shego apart from a much shorter crop of jet-black hair and a modified bodysuit, which was black and blue instead of black and green. "I give you the new member of our evil team: the S-Model cyber-synthetic android! Made in the image of the single most formidable and imposing person I could think of," he concluded, oozing charm as he turned back to her with a look that was one part hopeful, two parts fearful.

            Shego was looking up and down at the android thoughtfully. She was no longer brandishing her claws, which was definitely a good sign. "Not a clone? At all?" she asked at last.

           "Not one bit. No Shego DNA whatsoever," Drakken assured her. "It's made in your image, only your image, and that because there isn't another person out there who can look so vicious and so stylish at the same time. You fit the bill perfectly."

            "Flattery will get you nowhere, doc," she replied, surveying her duplicate. "Well, I stand corrected. It'll get you your life."

            "So you like it?" Drakken asked hopefully.

            She smiled. "When have you ever known _me_ to be modest?"

            Drakken nearly deflated in relief. "I'm glad. I didn't think I'd be able to replicate your enticing nastiness without resorting to facial cloning – which I didn't do!" he was quick to assure, "in favor of simply hiring a decent sculptor. Judging by your reaction, he did a fairly good job of recreating your likeness."

            "Any resemblance to the original is purely coincidental!" a henchman quipped stupidly.

            Shego lazily raised an arm and sent the offending bungler flying across the room with a blast of green energy. She brought the hand back and examined her nails closely. "You heard the doctor. Quiet while he's working," she said.

            Drakken grinned and got back to work. "This is the final, delicate operation that will mean my S-Model android will be complete," he whispered, biting his lip nervously. Bringing out a wide, doughnut-shaped object, he tore a thin gray strip from an end he pulled free of the roll. He took the strip and applied it delicately around the upper ankle of the android. With a final, careful pat to secure the addition, he stepped back quickly.

            The figure shuddered once, twice, and finally its eyes opened. They, too, were identical to Shego's. The android moved haltingly for a moment, stepping down from the slightly upraised cylinder to the floor below. It moved around, as though working kinks out of its limbs, and every movement became more smooth and lifelike. After a moment, only the hair and different color tunic could have identified it as anything but Shego herself; that, the rigid stance, and the vacant robotic expression.

            Dr. Drakken hopped about, clapping giddily. "It works! It works!"

            Shego was observing her synthetic replica carefully. "Now, Doc, I hate to put down such a good-looking creation, but I would swear you've tried the synthetic warrior bit before, with no luck."

            Drakken's celebrations were stopped. "Well, yes, the Bebes definitely left something to be desired," he admitted. "But this model is cyber-synthetic, not cybertronic."

            "English, please," Shego sighed, her voice tinged with exasperation.

            "It's part biological, part artificial, with no hive-mind or self-defeating directives," he explained. "It won't turn on us, won't blow herself up because of any logic loops, and it certainly won't fail to defeat Kim Possible and her goodie-two-shoes squad!" he said happily.

            "You're sure about that?" she asked doubtfully. The first movements of their new ally had looked almost rickety, nothing near what it would take to defeat Kim Possible, or even her new tag along, Lynx.

            "Oh, don't worry about that, Shego. Android!" Drakken barked. 

            "Ready for command," the replica intoned. Its voice was a hollow, monotone mimicry of Shego's, bland and lifeless.

            "Provide a demonstration of your abilities!" Drakken brought out a control pad and hit a large, red button. A door opened from the ceiling, and down dropped a mannequin of Kim Possible, hanging flaccidly by a rope.

            "Affirmative," the android replied. It waited until the mannequin reached the floor. With no pomp or circumstance, no buildup-vibration like its inferior Bebe predecessors, the android charged with blinding speed and laid into the dummy. With a blinding array of chops and kicks, the Kim look-alike was already missing both arms and both legs in the span of a second. With a bright flash of green light from the android's hand, the rest of the dummy dropped to the floor as a pile of blackened cinders.

            "It's programmed with all your styles and techniques, along with a pair of your plasma gauntlets," Drakken said, rubbing his hands together sinisterly. 

            Shego frowned. "Yeah, nice and flashy," she said doubtfully.

            Drakken looked at her with mild confusion. "You don't sound convinced."

            She sniffed. "It's just what we need, more mindlessly loyal hoodlums," Shego groused, casting a pointed glance over her shoulder at the gaggle of henchmen.

            Dr. Drakken grinned evilly, with a low, sinister snicker. "On the contrary, Shego." He produced a second, smaller handheld control. "You've seen nothing but the base programming. The real genius of this model is not fancy coding or a sleek new look…" he dramatically hovered a finger over one of the buttons. "It's a little something I borrowed when our friend Dr. Freeman wasn't looking – well, I stole it when he was out to lunch one day, actually – and modified with my own evil flair." He pressed the button.

            The android began shaking and spasming with a chorus of beeps and bells. For a second Shego thought something had gone wrong, until she saw that Drakken's grin was as dastardly as ever. The replica slowly stopped its contortions, like the slow recession of a wave, until it stood still once more.

            But it was not quite the same. Where before the android had been at rigid attention, stiff-limbed and silent with a vacant, artificial emptiness to its eyes, now she blinked, looking around, up, down, at her hands and body, as if seeing everything for the first time. At last, her eyes rose to take in Drakken, Shego, and the group of henchmen huddled cautiously behind them. Her eyes narrowed appraisingly. 

            "Just who are you?" Her voice had changed as well. It wasn't nearly as close to Shego's as the rest of her; it was softer, and filled with quiet cunning. Shego could sound dangerous and intimidating if she wanted to (which was quite often, admittedly), but her replica sounded like the terrifying whispers small children hear from beneath their beds in the dark of night.

            "I am Doctor Drakken, and this is Shego," the mad scientist introduced, his eyes glinting with malicious mirth. He was well pleased with himself.

            "Nice to meet you, doc," the android replied coolly.

            "I'd like to welcome you to our humble abode," he continued, waving at the cavernous expanse of their lair behind them. "And, as I'm sure your programming has already told you… welcome to our team."

            Her eyes narrowed, piercing Drakken with their intensity. The scientist gulped and tugged at his collar, for a split-second fearing that something had gone wrong with his modifications.

            "Fair enough," the android said at last, with a curt nod. "Looks like teaming with you will at least give me something fun to do." She slowly turned her head, surveying the lair closely, taking in the sights, sounds, and details down to the last air vent.

            "Hey," Shego barked, interrupting her duplicate's survey, "you got a name?"

            The android continued the slow arc of her eyes until she regarded her twin. A small, dangerously wicked grin spread across her face. "Just call me Avarice."

.

.

.

.

*A/N* - I realize this chapter has been a long time in coming. Too long… but that is neither here, nor there. Suffice to say it is here. Or is it there?

Am I alone in thinking the recent episodes of Kim Possible are getting progressively more like bad episodes of Star Trek? It seems almost as if they've run out of ideas that don't involve radical sci-fi technology, and even the good jokes are getting a little sparser every week. Oh well. Maybe if I were a writer or director I'd have the right to complain, but for now I'll just sit in my rocking chair, soak my teeth, and thump my old walking stick on the front porch while I moan about the "good ole' days". This would, of course, require a rocking chair, a front porch, an old walking stick, and the loss of all my _current_ teeth, which at the moment are perfectly well attached. But that, as they say, is life.

Life also entails periodic dropoffs in the quality of certain fanfics. Now, I've always hated how hard it is to be objective about one's own work, but this was the first fic I'd written that I could actually go back, read, and laugh out loud at. I also noticed that the last couple chapters haven't been up to that standard, and I finally ended up pegging it to my own sentimentality. There are certain ideas for scenes and subplots that I get which I just grow too attached to in the envisioning to leave out, much to the sufferance of my overall work. In the past, such instances have resulted in the premature demise of each of my fanfics; when I lose the flow of the story to slip in my little pet projects, I lose track of – and consequently, interest in – the story itself. Since I have a rather illogical predilection against simply abandoning such divergences, I leave myself only one option: to plow ahead until I get back to the original flow and heart of the story.

This is, perhaps, the most significant thing I've learned about myself as a writer during the process of fanfiction… Even the best of ideas doesn't always have a home in the story. If, or – hopefully – when, I ever make the leap to a more professional degree of writing, deciding what is and is not worth including will likely be the most difficult process I ever have to endure. Because, whether I like it or not, these little gallivants will no longer be something I can afford.

But that is neither here, nor there.


End file.
